And Beneath That, A Rebel Heart
by missparker85
Summary: “I’m sorry,” she says, finding her voice. “Do I know you?”
1. Chapter 1

She wakes up alone. She lies in the bed for a moment, still as a whisper, and gives herself a once over. She feels a little sore in her joints and there's a dull ache behind her eyes. Above her, the stars fly by in streaks – lines of light that tell her they are traveling at warp speed. The room is dark and quiet. There is a strange hum, mechanical but so distant and all encompassing that it's hard to isolate it to one area. It sounds like the ship is alive.

She assumes it's a ship anyway. Nothing bigger travels so easily at warp though it could be smaller. For some reason, though, she knows it isn't a shuttle or a rickety transport. The journey feels solid like only a starship can.

Though she feels slightly off kilter, she doesn't feel too severely damaged and so she pushes back the blanket and puts her feet on the floor. She feels the humming there too, the power traveling through deck plating, up through the carpet and into the soles of her bare feet.

The room is not unfamiliar, but she isn't sure what she's going to find when she leaves the sleeping alcove. There are clothes in the closet, a bathroom, a larger sitting area. She takes it all in, touching lightly the hairbrush sitting by the sink, a gold cylinder on the counter. When she looks in the mirror, the woman who stares back at her looks tired and older than she feels. She doesn't linger to study the reflection.

A chirping from near the bed draws her attention.

"Tuvok to Janeway."

She picks up the metal badge and looks at it curiously.

"Tuvok to Janeway, please respond," it says again. She presses her thumb into it and it chirps.

"Hello?" she says.

"Is everything all right?" the voice says. "You are due on the bridge."

She presses the badge again, hoping the voice goes away. It frightens her, the monotonous, disembodied sound of it. She sets the badge back where she found it.

She finds a console on the desk and presses the largest button to activate it. The screen lights up with a round blue symbol.

"USS Voyager," she says. "The United Federation of Planets."

To log on requires a password and she doesn't have it.

The door behind her chimes and she freezes, staring at it. Perhaps they'll just go away. It chimes again, though and so she squares her shoulders and presses the button to open it.

On the other side is a tall man with dark hair and the most fascinating facial art. He looks at her blue nightgown and smirks.

"Running a little late this morning?" he asks. She crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head slightly. She doesn't know what to say, but he barrels on. "You know, the doctor suggested you might need an extra day to rest, maybe you should reconsider going on duty today?"

What should she say to this man who spoke to her as if they were old friends? The smirk falls off his face and the playful look in his eyes vanishes, replaced quickly by concern.

"Kathryn?" he says. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry," she says, finding her voice. "Do I know you?"

oooo

"Well, I found the problem," the Doctor says, bringing his face close to the monitor that is lit up with a scan of the Captain's brain. Chakotay has been hanging around sickbay for hours now despite the Doctor's assurance he'd be the first to hear any news. Janeway is sedated on the biobed across the room. She'd been perfectly fine until Chakotay had dragged her to sickbay. She'd panicked then, a strange man pulling her, babbling about an accident and brain damage and by the time she'd gotten back into the Doctor's care she'd been nearly hysterical. He'd had little choice but to sedate her.

It is odd – hysterics are hardly the Captain's style.

"What?"

"Well, the alien weapon that knocked her out in the first place seemed to do more damage than I originally realized," the Doctor says. "It disrupted her neural pathways here and here." He motions to the screen as if Chakotay understands the diagram as well as he does.

"But she was fine when she went to sleep," Chakotay says.

"Not exactly," the Doctor says. "Her neural pathways were all ready damaged, but the swelling in her brain masked that. As she slept and her body had time to heal, the swelling went down and the pathways no longer connected."

"I don't understand," Chakotay says, shaking his head.

"The brain has all sorts of fail proofs and back up plans. When the Captain's brain lost access to formed pathways, it started to write new ones. But…" He paused and traced a convoluted path on the screen with his finger. "The new paths her brain wrote have bypassed completely her memory center."

"Which is why she doesn't know who she is?" Chakotay asks.

"It would appear so. It's hard to say what she'll know and what she won't. She may still be an expert in quantum physics but can't remember her hometown."

"How do we get her memory back?" Chakotay demands. "How do we fix her?"

"The trick is getting her new pathways to link up with the already established ones," the Doctor says. "But that's going to take time. There's no quick fix for that, I'm afraid."

"So what… we just hope something jogs her memory?"

"Showing her familiar places, recalling stories and memories, all these things will help her," the Doctor says, looking over to the biobed where she seems to be sleeping peacefully. "I'm going to wake her but may I suggest greeting her with something other than blind panic this time?"

Chakotay glowers at him but follows the Doctor to the bedside and watches him load the hypospray.

"While she's on medical leave I'm the Captain," Chakotay says. The Doctor glances at him, the hypospray hovering over her neck.

"Yes, that is how the hierarchy works," the Doctor says. Chakotay would punch the Doctor if it would make a difference, but instead he just balls his fists at his side.

"I mean I won't be able to stay with her. She'll need to be with someone so she doesn't get confused or overwhelmed," Chakotay says through is teeth.

"I'll ask Mr. Paris," the Doctor says.

"Tom?" Chakotay asks. It's no secret he and the pilot aren't exactly the best of friends, but that aside, he still finds it an odd choice.

"He has enough medical training to monitor her while she readjusts," the Doctor says. "In theory, anyway. He'll also be able to answer questions about her childhood and family."

"Paris?" Chakotay says again.

"I know," the Doctor says. "You think I'm thrilled that he's the best man for the job?"

"That isn't…" Chakotay is going to say it's not what he meant, but it is so he lets the words falter. "Perhaps we should brief him before we wake her?"

The Doctor sets down the hypospray and summons Paris to sickbay.

oooo

It looks like the Captain. Tom rolls his eyes at the thought, berating himself. Of course it looks like her, she's lost her memory, not her face. She's coming around now, her head rolling to one side and then the other before her eyes open. She looks at the three men standing over her bedside one at a time. When she gets to Chakotay, her expression gets stony.

"Where am I?" she says, looking at the Doctor.

"You're still in sickbay," the Doctor says. "But there's no reason to be frightened."

She looks at Chakotay again, and he clears his throat.

"I'm sorry about upsetting you," he says. "I reacted… poorly."

"Do you remember me?" Tom asks, hopefully, trying to steer the conversation away from unhappy topics. She just shakes her head no. "I'm Tom."

"Mr. Paris here," the Doctor says, glancing at Tom, "is going to be helping you until you regain your memories. He'll be able to answer any questions you have about yourself or the ship."

"This is all very…" She waves her hand in the air. "Very strange."

"Strange is part of the job," Tom assures her, trying to keep the worry off his face. She sits up, tired of being looked down upon and smoothes her hair. "I thought maybe we'd get you some real clothes and then you can take a look at your service record?"

"All right," she says.

"The more you learn about yourself, the more likely it is that your memory will come back on its own," the Doctor assures her. "I'm going to give you a cortical monitor while you're out." He shows her the device before attaching it behind her ear.

"Don't worry, Captain," Chakotay says. "You're in good hands with Tom."

Tom grins at him, knowing saying so is difficult for Chakotay.

"Why thank you, Commander," he says. Janeway watches this exchange.

They walk slowly down the corridor once they leave sickbay. Tom doesn't chatter at her, but he watches her closely as she inspects the surroundings.

"That man in Sickbay," she says, finally. "The Commander?"

"Chakotay," Tom supplies.

"He doesn't like you?" she asks. Tom chuckles.

"We, while not the best friends, have learned to live together," Tom says.

"He's the first officer?" she asks. He nods. "If you don't get along, why wouldn't you just ask for a transfer?"

"We," Tom says, touching her back lightly to get her to turn down the corridor toward the turbolift, "Have a lot to talk about."

When she is changed and fed, they sit on either side of the desk in her quarters. The crew has been briefed and they will not be disturbed. Tom sits on the side with the console facing him and she sits in a softer chair, drug over from across the room.

"There's no easy way to tell you six years of history," Tom says. "That's how long we've been on Voyager. That's how long you've been her Captain."

"I'm in charge," she says. "And I'm the one who can't remember anything. Does that strike you as ironic?"

"With the sort of irony we're faced with on our journey, it barely tips the scale," he says.

"I think you ought to tell me just what kind of journey we're on," she says, sternly.

"We are… far from home," he says. "I think it's best you read your service record and then you can ask me anything you want."

While she reads, he moves to the replicator and orders them both a cup of coffee. She may not remember herself, but she's still the Captain and when she sips the coffee she her mood seems to improve slightly.

"Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway," she says aloud. "I have had quite the career. Several academy commendations, a prisoner of war, and Captain by thirty-four."

"Yes Ma'am," he says.

"And now we're in the Delta Quadrant," she reads. "A lifetime away from where we want to be."

"My next suggestion is that you go through some of your personal logs," Tom says. "But first, perhaps you want a tour of the ship? Meet some of the Voyager crew?"

"All right," she says.

"You seem awfully calm about all of this," Tom points out.

"It's sort of like reading a book," she admits. "You can tell me it's me, and my picture is there, but it seems like a fictional character at the moment. The Doctor… you know, I'm not sure I caught his name."

"The Doctor will do for now," Tom says, smirking.

"He told me that my memories will probably return in time so I guess I just have to wait it out."

"A very admirable attitude," Tom says.

"And if they don't come back…." She shakes her head. "Well, I can only imagine people have survived worse."

"Too true," he says, surprised.

"Also, I think that Doctor gave me something to keep me calm and even before we left the medical bay," she admits, lowering her voice. Tom laughs.

"Probably so," he says.

"Tom?" she asks. "What about you? I don't know about you. Are we friends?"

"You and I?" he asks. "Yeah. We're friends. Tell you what. We'll take that tour and later, you can look up the records of everyone on the ship, including me."

"Okay," she says.

He takes her, first, to the hydroponics bay. An interesting choice to be sure, but it's a neutral place to begin. She touches the plants that hang over the edges of their planters and caresses a blue fruit that is growing heavy on the vine.

"We have to grow our own food," Tom says. "We never know when we're going to find our next source of power, so it's good to have reserves."

"And the flowers?" she asks. "Medicinal?"

"Some," Tom says. "Some just for the beauty."

Next they go to astrometrics. Seven is regenerating; there'll be time enough for that with a little more explanation. On the large display, he calls up a picture of Voyager and then, a picture of Earth.

"I know that planet," she says. "That's our home."

"Earth," he says. "What else do you remember about it?"

"I remember…" She seems to struggle for a moment. "Corn?"

"You're from a place called Indiana," he says, and focuses the picture to a view of the state. "It's a very agricultural state. You lived on a farm before you joined Starfleet."

"Indiana," she says. "Where are you from?"

"California," he says, highlighting his own state. "Our fathers both worked in San Francisco." The city lights up on the screen, with some text naming it as well as the population and elevation.

"So we're old friends," she says.

"Our families have known each other for a long time," he says, diplomatically.

"Did we grow up together?" she asks, but as she says it, she knows it isn't right.

"You were a teenager when I was born," he says. "You came to my christening."

"What is that?"

"It's an archaic ceremony my mother insisted upon," Tom says.

"Hmm," she says, looking at the screen. "What's next?"

He takes her to the mess hall. It's between meal times, but there's always someone there. Neelix is in the kitchen and there are a few officers seated, staring longingly out the view ports. He waves them off, but they watch their Captain curiously. It's not often they see her in civilian clothes – it is not often she's not herself.

"Neelix runs the galley," Tom says. "He also works tirelessly as our morale officer."

"Which is what, exactly?" she asks.

"Oh, it varies," he says. "Neelix?"

Neelix comes out of the kitchen and grins.

"Captain Janeway!" he says, excitedly. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm… fine," she says.

"I'm Neelix," he says, but he says it loudly and slowly, like it is her hearing that is damaged.

"A pleasure," she says. She studies him, his spots and whiskers. Not only is this man unfamiliar but surprising as well. "What is your species?"

Neelix glances at Tom. "I'm Talaxian." Janeway smiles at him and murmurs, "Of course," but they can all see that she's covering.

On the bridge, while Tuvok shows the Captain his tactical console, Tom pulls Chakotay aside.

"Some things she knows," Tom tries to explain.

"She's remembering?" Chakotay asks, hopefully.

"No, it isn't that, it's just… she understands the ship and the science. I mean, look how bored she seems. I think she knows exactly how tactical works and she's just humoring Tuvok."

"But she doesn't remember that she's the Captain," Chakotay says.

"She didn't recognize Neelix," Tom says. Chakotay opens his mouth to make some snide comment. "She didn't recognize his species," Tom corrects. Chakotay closes his mouth. "I mean that's strange, right? To not blink at the Vulcans, the Bolians, B'Elanna, but…"

"Have you told the Doc?"

"Not yet," Tom says, "But I will."

Janeway moves away from Tuvok toward the center of the bridge where the two men stand.

"This is your chair," Tom says. "Why don't you sit?"

"Sure," Janeway says. She's been oddly reserved and amiable about the entire experience so far. It isn't strange to assume she wouldn't be herself but her personality seems different too. She's passive – she's lost the fight inside of her.

When he walks her back to sickbay, they are alone in the corridor. She tries to dismiss him.

"The computer can direct me if I get lost. Surely you must have duties on a ship this small, this far from its home planet."

"Sick of me?" Tom says. Janeway shakes her head no. "Don't worry about duty rosters. That's not even your job on a good day."

"Okay," she agrees.

In sickbay, Tom has to activate the doctor and Janeway jumps, slightly.

"You're a hologram," she says.

"Yes," the Doctor says, opening his tricorder. "But you don't usually hold that against me."

"I'm sorry," Janeway says quickly, "I just didn't know."

While she undergoes more scanning, Tom tells the Doctor what he told Chakotay on the bridge.

"Memory is selective," the Doctor offers. "Perhaps not remembering the Delta Quadrant is a sort of coping mechanism for her."

"She doesn't want to remember her life?"

"I didn't say that," the Doctor says. "The memories of the Delta Quadrant are her most recent. Perhaps she can remember more about Alpha Quadrant life because those memories have been with her longer."

"You don't sound sure," Tom says.

"I'm not," the Doctor says. "I'll know more after the scans."

But when the procedure is complete, the Doctor needs time to analyze it, so he sends the Captain back to her quarters. Tom accompanies her there, too, whispering to her the names of people they pass on the way.

"It's been… an interesting day," she says. "Thank you for your help."

"Captain, you're going to recover from this in no time. Try not to be scared."

"Should I be scared?" she asks him, furrowing her brow.

"I would be," he admits. "But maybe the rumors are true."

"What rumors?" she asks.

"Captain Janeway isn't afraid of anything." He smirks – he's trying to get a laugh out of her, but instead she just looks unsure and disappears into her rooms.

oooo

She spends the night reading service records, trying to match the faces she saw today with names and histories. She starts with the highest ranked officers – Tuvok the Vulcan and her first officer. Tom had tried to explain the melding of the two crews – the Federations and the Maquis – but it still seemed like a preposterous situation. She moved onto the rosters of people she'd met on duty. Apparently, the young woman she'd met in Stellar Cartography had an identical twin on board.

She doesn't know why she waits to read Tom's service record last. He's an interesting man and has been courteous and kind to her over the course of this bizarre day. She doesn't quite understand him, however. While he looks the picture of a proper officer, he walks like a free agent. Most people she encounters straighten their spine when they see her, but Mr. Paris remains relaxed no matter what. When they ride in the turbolift, he leans against the wall with his arms crossed and on the bridge, he'd draped his forearms over the banister that separated the command chairs from the console behind them.

Even members of the crew who aren't technically Starfleet, and there are quite a few, don't seem as lackadaisical as Tom. She carries the computer console with her to the bed. She's tired – the Doctor had mentioned that she might be – and falls asleep with information still scrolling across the screen.


	2. Chapter 2

It isn't that Tom is worried, he's just concerned. He wakes up earlier than usual to check the internal sensors. Janeway is still asleep; her heart rate is steady and she isn't moving around. The internal sensors can monitor the smallest amount of movement, record any sound, can analyze the air quality and humidity of any room on Voyager, but they can't tell Tom what he really wants to know.

What does a woman with no memory dream about?

He had trouble falling asleep and now he continues what kept him up so late. He lies in bed and thinks about the Captain's situation. He tries to imagine himself in this situation, how he might react if he'd woken up with a clean slate. Probably not as well as the Captain, he'd wager. After so much time in prison and the Maquis, it's hard not to give into the instinct to shoot first and ask questions later.

Janeway has been collected and calm, approaching the situation like a scientist gathering data.

The computer alerts him when she wakes up – starts moving around her quarters. When she moves, he does too. He takes a sonic shower and replicates a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice. When he's dressed and fed, he makes his way to her door and rings them chime. It takes a moment for her to open the door. She doesn't call for his entrance and so when the doors part, she's standing there in clean clothes with wet hair. She doesn't wear a uniform and her face is clean of make-up.

"Good morning," she says. "I'm still…"

"Say no more," he says. "I was just wondering how you were this morning."

"Come in," she says, stepping aside. "Just let me…"

She escapes back into the bathroom and he sits down on the sofa. He can hear her, picking something up and setting it down again, or the water running into the basin. When she comes out, her hair is dry but not quite as styled as usual.

"So, Mr. Paris," she says, sounding remarkably like herself. "We have a Borg crew member?"

"Uh, yes ma'am," he says.

"I find it somewhat suspicious you didn't mention that earlier," she says.

"I wasn't hiding anything," he says. "I just though I'd ease you into the situation."

"Is the Borg hostile?" Janeway asks.

"Not in the strictest sense," Tom says. Janeway recognizes a joke even if she doesn't get the punch line and rolls her eyes.

"Can I meet it?"

"You can meet her," Tom says. "Seven used to be a member of the collective, but now she's human, just like you and me."

"Right," Janeway says. "You're right. She… has had quite the tumultuous life on this ship, hasn't she?"

"You could say that," Tom says. "But don't make all your judgments from reading logs and service records." She doesn't respond to his gentle reprimand but gives him a knowing look. "Are you hungry?"

"No," she says. "If you and the Doctor think that immersing myself in my old life will help me recover my memory, then I'd like to continue on that."

"You're the boss," he says.

"So it would seem," she says.

Tom tries to explain Seven but does such a poor job of it that Janeway just waves his words away as they walk down the corridor. To be perfectly honest, Tom doesn't know Seven all that well. He knows her as a colleague, but they are not friends. The person who knows Seven best is Janeway herself. It used to be, anyhow.

"I'll make my own judgments," she says. They arrive at astrometrics where Seven is already on duty. When they enter, she looks over her shoulder at Tom and the Captain.

"Good morning," she says, though her tone suggests that her words are a formality at best.

"Captain Janeway," Tom says, "This is Seven of Nine."

Seven turns to face them and Tom watches Janeway look her over. No computer file or headshot can prepare someone for Seven in the flesh. She is beautiful and tall, and her choice of outfit leaves little to the imagination.

"I take it your memory has not returned," Seven says.

"No," Janeway says. "Not yet."

"Would you like me to explain the function of the astrometrics lab?" Seven asks.

"I understand the lab just fine," Janeway says only slightly indignantly. "The Doctor seems to think getting to know the crew will help me."

"Seven," Tom says. "Maybe reminding the Captain of some of the time you spent together will be the most helpful."

Seven is quiet while she seems to consider the suggestion. Finally, she says, "On alternating Sundays, we play hover ball."

"Well," Tom says with a laugh. "That ought to do it. Are the memories just flooding back in?"

"I don't remember your sarcasm, but I'm not surprised by it," Janeway says to Tom. He holds up his hands in defeat.

"Perhaps when I am off-duty we can speak more about our previous activities," Seven offers. While it sounds like she is dismissing the pair, Tom knows that her offer to continue later is genuine. Seven is austere, but Tom believes she does have some affection for the Captain.

"You do have a doctor's appointment in a few minutes," Tom says.

"All right," Janeway says.

"What did you think of Seven?" Tom asks on the way.

"I had this… this hope that when I saw her things would just… fall back into place," Janeway says.

"Why Seven?" Tom asks.

"My personal logs," she says. "I speak about her like a daughter, almost."

"Are you disappointed?" Tom asks.

"It would be too easy, right?" she says, dryly. "Like flipping a switch."

Tom pauses to let Janeway walk into sickbay first. The Doctor wastes no time in ordering Janeway onto a bio bed.

"This will take some time," the Doctor says. "I'll contact you when I'm finished."

"I'll be on the bridge," Tom says. Chakotay is in the ready room, waiting for his report. It's strange to see Chakotay sitting behind her desk. He looks too bulky for the desk, and the vase of flowers that Neelix keeps fresh on the ledge behind the desk is too feminine.

"How is she?" Chakotay says.

"She's fine," Tom says. Chakotay looks unconvinced. "Her memory hasn't returned, but she's taking it in stride. She seems calm and patient."

"And you don't think that's unusual?" Chakotay says. It's a small joke, but he's being partly serious.

"Maybe this is just Kathryn Janeway without the baggage," Tom offers.

"You knew her before Voyager, didn't you?" Chakotay asks.

"Um," Tom scratches the back of his head uncomfortably. "Officially, no."

"Officially?"

"Meeting someone at Starfleet social functions and meeting someone on duty are two separate things, you know that," Tom says. "And the Captain was the favorite of my father and my father and I never truly got along, so…"

"So what you're saying is that when she recruited you to Voyager, you both just pretended like you were perfect strangers?" Chakotay asked, his brow furrowed.

"The etiquette rules for Starfleet families are complex… what matters, Chakotay, is that memory aside, the Captain is healthy."

"I was thinking, maybe if you went back a little further – told her about her life before Voyager, it might help her to remember."

Tom shakes his head.

"I'm happy to play nursemaid for the next fifty years, but I'm not the man for that job, I promise you," Tom says. Chakotay narrows his eyes slightly, but doesn't push. "The Doctor should have a report for you by the end of the shift."

And when the Doctor gives his report, he declares her fit for duty.

"She doesn't remember her mother's name, let alone command codes," Chakotay says. "Shouldn't we wait for her memory to return before we put her back on duty?"

"Her memory could return tomorrow or in five years or never at all," the Doctor says. "But it's your call."

Tom has been sitting in on the meeting and has remained quiet until now.

"We're just going to let Kathryn Janeway sit and rot for fifty years?" Tom asks.

"It's not Kathryn Janeway, exactly," Chakotay points out.

"It's still her mind. It's still her, Chakotay, she's just… incomplete," Tom argues. "We can teach her command codes and the names of the crew. I can get her ready."

"You can't teach someone to be Captain if you've never been Captain yourself," Chakotay says.

"Who knows her best?" Tom offers. "We'll get the people who know her best together and give her a crash course in herself!"

"That isn't a bad idea," the Doctor says.

"I know her best," Chakotay declares.

"Tuvok has known her longest," Tom says. "And Seven knows a piece of her the rest of us don't."

Chakotay cannot argue this, so he concedes in silence.

"I think the entire senior staff is a place to start," the Doctor says.

"Fine," Chakotay says. "Bring me a list."

Tom doesn't say so, but he knows the most about her life before Voyager. He knows about the life of a Starfleet family – the sacrifices one makes when one's father is part of the brass. The social functions that are mandatory, the expectation that one will enroll in the academy and excel.

Janeway eats dinner with Tom in the mess and listens to this new plan. She wears her hair tucked behind her ears and in each ear is a small gold hoop. Perhaps he has seen Janeway wear earrings in passing at one of Neelix's holiday parties, but never casually like this. Outside of wedding rings and other cultural pieces, jewelry is against uniform regulations so most people just don't bother.

"Do you not think I should be consulted in plans regarding my well-being?" she asks. She seems as even keeled as ever, but Tom sees the Captain in this statement.

"If you have objections, of course, we can reconsider," Tom says. "And besides, I'm telling you now."

"I'd like to see the list," she says, reaching for the PADD. He hands it over and she reads the names. It's a short list, comprised of her bridge staff, B'Elanna, Seven, and Neelix.

"I guess I don't have very many friends," she comments.

"It's lonely at the top," Tom says.

"Who would you say knows me the best?" she asks. This is a tricky question and Tom hesitates for too long. "So it isn't you?"

"You think it would be me?" he asks, surprised.

"Well, I don't think they'd let a perfect stranger guide me through my own life," she says. "And you don't seem… as uncomfortable around me as the others."

"No one is uncomfortable," Tom objects but he realizes he doesn't know if that's true or not. He doesn't see how people react to her when he isn't with her. He changes tactics. "Chakotay thinks I should tell you more about your life before Voyager."

"Does he," she says, resting her chin on her hand. "I've gone through my personal logs. I know about my family, my once engagement…" She trails off, wondering if she has inadvertently revealed too much but Tom doesn't seem surprised or filled with pity.

"I think," Tom says in a careful voice, "He meant that I should tell you about my father."

"Your father?" she asks, her interest piqued. "What does your family have to do with me?"

"Come on," Tom says. "There's something I should probably show you."

oooo

In the holodeck, he calls up two chairs that are comfortable but have sturdy backs. She sits in one and crosses her legs while he stands at the console and calls up the information he's looking for. Soon, there's a photograph projected onto the screen and he comes to sit in the other chair.

"Who is this?" she asks, finally when he doesn't seem willing to offer up the information. The picture is of a stoic looking man in uniform. She can see from his collar that he is an admiral.

"This is my father," Tom says. "Owen Paris."

"Friendly fellow," she says and it is an attempt at humor.

"He was your mentor," Tom says. She raises an eyebrow in surprise.

"I know that I served under him on the Al-Battani but I was a science office and not a bridge one."

"Your official file does not reflect the time you spent aboard the Icarus," Tom says. "It was a covert mission."

"Why do you know about it?" she asks.

"It ended poorly," he says. Before she has time to ask anymore questions, he calls out, "Next!" and the slide changes. In this picture Tom is standing next to his father in a cadet's uniform. Both men are considerably younger.

"He must have been very proud of you," she comments and he doesn't reply except to call for the next slide. It is a picture of Janeway as a cadet standing next to her own father. "Hard to believe I was ever that young."

"It's tradition to take a generational photo on these steps when one enters the academy," Tom says. The Golden Gate Bridge is in the background and they are standing on the steps of the Commons building. "You and I had very similar upbringings."

"Did you know me before we boarded this ship, Tom?" she asks.

"You were already a Lieutenant Commander when I joined Starfleet," Tom says. Janeway notices that he doesn't answer her question but doesn't press. In her few days of knowing Tom Paris, she has learned that he reveals things in his own time and in return, doesn't pressure her to move at a faster pace than with she is comfortable. He moves ahead a few slides to a picture of what is surely a celebration of some sort. On the table is a cake, the icing bright orange and pressed into the icing, a toy replica of a shuttle. The young man who stands behind the cake in the glow of the candles looks angry, or perhaps, disappointed. "Sixteen," he supplies before she has to ask.

It takes her a moment, but in the background of people she finally spots her younger self.

"So I was a friend of the family," she says.

"This was after the Icarus. You were serving in his office at Starfleet Headquarters and he sent you to my birthday party to represent him."

"Why couldn't he come himself?" she asks.

"You told me he got called away unexpectedly – not uncommon for an active admiral in the heart of war," Tom says. "But when I pressed for more information, the lie collapsed. My father was sitting in his office in San Francisco. Now I understand better – He couldn't face his family after being broken by the Cardassians but at the time, well, you were a poor substitute."

She understands now.

"Your family didn't like me," she says.

"There was a time when the Paris's and the Janeway's were friends, but the war damaged many things," Tom says. "And when you came to me about joining Voyager, you introduced yourself like we'd never met. You were offering me a clean slate and I decided to take it."

"And your father?" she asks. Tom turns his face back to the screen but she can see his expression darken, even in profile.

"Still the admiral," he says. "Some things never change."

Tom feels the light pressure of her hand on his forearm but then it is gone. He forces cheer back into himself and turns to her once more.

"The Doc says you're fit for duty," he says. "That's good news."

"I can't go on duty!" she says. "I don't know how to be the Captain of this ship."

"Maybe not, but we'll get you ready. Trust me, being the Captain is 40 percent experience and 60 percent attitude." He grins. "We're going to get you back on your feet, I promise."

"And if we come into contact with a hostile species?" she asks. "They'll see right away that I'm a fraud."

"That's ridiculous," he says. She frowns.

"Is that how you speak to your Captain?" she asks, her hands on her hips.

"See?" He grins. "It's going to be just fine."


	3. Chapter 3

She stands in front of her mirror and inspects the reflection carefully. The uniform doesn't feel unfamiliar, but she feels like an actress more than a Captain. Maybe she knows her lines well enough, but that's all they are – lines someone else has written for her. Still, life must go on, as complicated as it keeps turning out to be.

She no longer needs Tom to lead her around the ship, but she's not surprised when her door chimes. He's there, waiting to escort her to her first day back on the job.

"How do you feel?" he asks.

"I'm fine," she says perhaps a little too quickly. "I mean, physically, I'm fine. I'm a little… a little nervous."

"That's okay," he says, as they head down the corridor to the turbolift. "You just have to remember that no one wants you to fail. The Doc seems to think that your normal routine will only help you."

She knows all of this. And lately, she's been feeling like it's all just on the tip of her tongue. Her memory is there, but in a place she can't access. It's a frustrating feeling to be constantly reaching and straining for something but never quite getting there. At the end of the day, she's always mentally exhausted. It's slow progress and she is making progress, but the things she remembers seem to be useless and mostly about other people. She remembered that Harry played the clarinet on her own and that before Tom had sickbay shifts, the Doctor had a nurse.

"Kes," Tom had supplied looking both surprised and stricken. "You're remembering Kes."

Those things are good, but what she wants is her life back, the entirety of it.

In the turbolift Tom watches her from the corner of his eye while pretending to stare at nothing.

"You're nervous too," she says.

"What?" he asks.

"I can tell," she says.

"If anything, I'm nervous for you," he says.

"How reassuring," she says, her voice dry.

"Computer, halt lift," he orders before turning to her. "Some last advice?"

She nods.

"Harry has scanned ahead and it looks pretty barren but sometimes things come up out of nowhere. If that happens, there's no shame in letting Chakotay run the show. If you get overwhelmed, just go to your ready room. Don't tire yourself out and don't try anything fancy."

"Good heavens," she says. "You don't think I can do it!"

"No," he says. "That isn't true."

"Yes it is. You just told me to tuck my tail between my legs and run home! Well, you know what Lieutenant Paris? I may not know myself, but I know enough to be sure I'm no coward. Computer, resume!"

She turns away, her mouth set in a grim line and when the doors part, she marches onto the bridge and barks for a report.

Tom tries his best to bite back his smile but Chakotay sees it on his face as he crosses the bridge toward the conn.

"Played that one just right, didn't you?" Chakotay mutters, and claps him on the back.

"What can I say, I'm a professional," Tom says, before sitting down in his chair, feeling pretty damn proud of himself.

oooo

It takes Janeway most of the shift before she realizes what, exactly, has happened. She summons Tom into her ready room a few minutes before his shift ends.

"You played me," she says and he just smirks. "Tom! I trusted you and you played me!"

"Like a dime store fiddle," he says. "Sorry about that."

"You are not," she says. "Get out before I wipe that smirk off your face myself."

Tom turns to go.

"Tom?"

"Yes?" he says, turning back to look at her.

"How'd I do?"

He gives her a double thumbs up before leaving her to her thoughts. She smiles. Tom is unique and she's glad it was him who took her on when she found herself in this mess. The door chimes and she thinks that maybe he had one more thing to say, but instead her first officer comes in to talk shop. Chakotay has also been patient and it must be just as hard for him, doing his job and picking up her slack. He seems tired.

"Well, I didn't crash the ship and nothing caught on fire, so what do you say we declare the day a success and get some dinner?" she asks.

"Does it matter that you weren't actually flying the ship?" Chakotay asks.

"It does not."

"Then I say dinner is a good idea," he says. "Do you mind if B'Elanna joins us? We were going to go over some new specs for the dilithium chamber."

"Sure," Janeway says. "I feel like she's the member of the senior staff I know least. Maybe I'm just paranoid, but I think she's been avoiding me."

"You aren't paranoid," Chakotay assures her as they head to the mess hall. "Torres isn't great at dealing with her past. I think the idea of dredging up everything is pretty unappealing to her."

"Our past is rocky, I take it," Janeway says. Chakotay just smiles. "I mean, I know some things, but my logs are pretty… ambiguous."

"I think you two have worked out most of the kinks in your relationship," Chakotay says. "B'Elanna is just feeling fragile right now because of the break-up."

"Break-up?" she asks. Chakotay glances at her, looking confused. "Trust me, Commander, access codes and protocol I have down. I even have names and departments down, but there's no hard documentation on gossip."

"I'm just surprised Tom didn't tell you. He's the kingpin of the gossip mill on this ship," Chakotay says. "He and B'Elanna broke-up again about a week and a half before your accident."

"Tom and B'Elanna?" she asks. "Tom Paris?" She's totally surprised by this tidbit. Tom had made absolutely no reference to the relationship and he'd talked about the Chief Engineer enough that it ought to have come up at least once.

"They break-up and make-up so often even I'm finding it hard to keep track," Chakotay says.

"How long?" she asks.

"A couple of years now, I guess," Chakotay says, and shrugs. "Maybe this is the same as every other time, but I heard that Tom broke up with B'Elanna which is not how it usually happens, so maybe it's for good this time."

She doesn't have a chance to ask any more questions because they enter the mess hall and B'Elanna is already waiting. She stands up at the sight of the Captain beside Chakotay and Janeway raises her hand to show that formality isn't necessary.

"Good evening, Captain," she says.

"Captain Janeway is going to join us," Chakotay announces. Neelix brings a couple of plates of food over and Janeway mostly listens as B'Elanna goes over her work with Chakotay. Janeway can tell B'Elanna doesn't think Janeway understands what she's saying, because every so often she throws in an unnecessary explanation about warp fields or chamber mechanics. Janeway doesn't bother to correct her, but instead spends the time sizing the engineer up. B'Elanna is very pretty, there's no denying, it but from what little she's seen, Tom doesn't seem like a very good match.

Silently, she chastises herself. What does she know of B'Elanna or of the relationship they shared? Does she even know Tom well enough to say that this woman across from her isn't a good partner? She's acting… jealous.

"What do you think Captain?" Chakotay asks.

"I think I'm not feeling very well," she says. She has been caught not paying attention but doesn't want to admit it. "I think I'll go to sickbay."

"I'll go with you," Chakotay says.

"No, it's okay. You two keep working. I know the way," she says, and leaves the mess hall. Maybe she's just tired and that's why she feels unsteady and she considers, briefly, returning to her quarters and crawling in bed but the Doctor had been adamant about reporting any unusual feelings. When she walks into Sickbay, the Doctor looks up with a furrowed brow.

"Hello, Captain," he says. "Is something the matter?"

"I don't feel well," she says, and lays down on a biobed. She stares at the dull ceiling and waits for the barrage of tests to begin. She hadn't noticed Tom working in the back lab but now he appears, summoned by the sound of her voice. Seeing him brings both comfort and another wave of misery and she has to swallow at the lump that's growing in her throat.

"Can you be more specific?" the Doctor asks.

"I feel," she says. "I feel bad."

The Doctor and Tom exchange a glance before Janeway can't bear to look at either of them any longer and shuts her eyes. She can hear the beep of a tricorder for a few moments and then Tom's voice.

"I think I can take it from here," he says, a whisper. The Doctor retreats. "Captain?"

"Am I dying?" she asks.

"Not today," he says.

"Do I have a fever?" she presses.

"Nope."

"I feel flushed," she says.

"That's because you're holding back tears," he says. "Open your eyes, please."

If she opens her eyes, the tears will almost assuredly spill over, down her cheeks, and into her ears and her hair.

She opens her eyes, and her vision is swimming.

"I can't do this," she says.

"Can't do what?" he asks.

"Can't live this strange life!" she says. "I can't be this strange woman you all so desperately want me to be! I don't know her; I don't know what I'm doing. This is a ridiculous situation and I, I don't know how I'm supposed to just hop right back in like nothing is wrong!" She's crying now, hiccuping through her words and wiping angrily at her cheeks.

"Do you feel better?" he asks.

"NO!"

"Well you should, because you've been holding that in for a long time," Tom says. "What you're feeling? What's making you feel bad? It's fear."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a four-year-old," she snaps. "I need a tissue."

He reaches over to the tray by the other bed and snatches one out of the dispenser for her. She takes it and dabs at her eyes before blowing her nose.

"Why didn't you tell me you were dating B'Elanna Torres?" she demands. This is an abrupt change of subject and Tom is unprepared.

"Because I'm not?"

"You know what I mean," she says miserably. "You were. For a long time. You told me about your father and your time in prison and all sorts of sordid details but you never thought to tell me about B'Elanna?"

"That's over," Tom says.

"What else are you hiding from me?" she demands.

"I wasn't hiding anything," Tom says, a more steely edge in his voice. "I feel like I've been pretty accommodating, actually."

"Well, accommodate me no further," she says and slides off the bed. "You've done what you said you would do and I'm going to be just fine now."

"Wait," Tom says. "Come on, wait a second!" He grabs her wrist – something he may not have done before all this happened, but he feels entitled now to stop her from walking in crying and walking out angry. "Please."

She stares at him, her eyes rimmed with red but icy blue. Beneath her chest, her heart flutters more quickly and Tom drops his hand, as if he could feel the increase.

"I never thought my personal life was important. I didn't want to weigh you down with unimportant details," he tries to explain.

"Don't you trust me?" she asks, hurt. "I thought we were friends."

"We are," he says.

"People talk to their friends," she says.

"But you're different," Tom says. "We can play pool and banter on the bridge and I can heal your broken bones and tell you to get more rest but you're never not the Captain."

"It's lonely at the top," she says. He had told her as much already.

He looks apologetic. "I'll tell you anything you want to know. I'll tell you everything," he says. She shakes her head.

"You're right, Lieutenant," she says. "You were right to keep your distance. If I'm going to regain my standing as Captain, things need to go back to how they were."

Tom shakes his head emphatically.

"No, I think the way things were is the problem. I think your brain doesn't want to remember how you've been living your life for the last six years."

"And how is that?"

"Alone," he says.

"No one is alone on a ship this size," she argues. "I've been here a week and I already know that."

Tom flinches at the statement – because it is incorrect, because progress is so slow, because he's arguing with a woman who has no idea who either of them really are.

"You aren't sick," Tom says. "Let's go somewhere."

"Where?" she asks.

Tom tips his head at the Doctor who is standing across the room with his back to them, listening hard. She crosses her arms across her body and nods once. Tom is still on duty, but the Doctor won't stop him from leaving with the Captain by his side, memory or not. The hierarchy is too strongly programmed into him.

In the corridor, the righteous indignation seems to dissipate from her slightly and she almost visibly deflates. She rubs her forehead, as if she could worry the block away.

"Square one," she says softly. "I don't know a damn thing and you have to lead me around the ship on a leash."

"No leash," he promises. "We basically do the same thing every day, you know. I mean, there are unforeseen circumstances and the occasional crisis or adventure, but most mornings I get up, I fly the ship, I work in sickbay, I have a drink and go to sleep." He glances at her. "When I was with B'Elanna, I'd have to fight with her before the sleeping part, but it was all the same. This has been, and don't take this the wrong way, this has been sort of a treat for me."

"I see," she says, but she doesn't at all.

"I would have considered you and I friends, before," he says. "I was being honest about that, but we didn't talk like this. I feel like I know you a little better these days."

"Well, I'm glad one of us does," she says, that same weight in her voice.

"I don't think people are just the sum of their memories. You're still you. You're still Kathryn Janeway; sharp-witted, quick-tempered, big-heart. Those things don't go away, you know."

She's just following him and isn't surprised when they end up at the Holodeck. Tom likes the Holodeck, likes the idea of being someone else. He calls up a program without consulting her. He looks like he wants to explain himself before they go in, but bites it all back. She follows him in and is met with a wet, dark alley. They walk straight to a wooden door and he holds it open for her and lets her walk in first. She looks around and something nags at the back of her mind.

"This is…"

"Sandrine's," she says and is confident in the statement. "We used to come here."

"Yes!" he says. "You remember this place?"

"I guess so," she says. She looks around, squints in the darkness and tries to remember something specific, but the faces all look strange to her. "Sort of."

"It's a start," he says. "I made this program, but it's gone out of vogue. Only you and I use it, anymore."

"You and I?" she asks.

"Sometimes we play pool," he says. "Not often." Not anymore, was the unspoken statement.

"Because of the Ocean planet?" she asks.

"You remember that too?" he asks, his face somewhere between excitement and horror.

"I read about it," she says. "I watched my personal log."

"Ah," he says. "Of course. Well, after that we haven't… and then now, you're… like this."

"Like this," she repeats, walking toward the pool table in the middle of the room. "Computer, delete characters." The other people in the bar shimmer out of existence. "The last thing I need in my life is more strangers," she explains.

"Do you want to play a game? For old time's sake?" he asks.

"Do I usually win?" she asks, picking up the cue that leans against the table. The balls are already racked and ready.

"I'm not telling," he says. She smiles at him like she already knows the answer is yes. She wins the first game and he wins the second.

"Let's not break the tie," she says. He looks like he wants to stay but he nods.

"I'll walk you home," he says but she shakes her head.

"Stay," she says. "Enjoy your night."

Chakotay calls on her later that night. It's nearly midnight, but maybe it isn't unusual for him to stop by at such an hour. She isn't sleeping at any rate, so she allows him to step in far enough that the door closes behind him. She's still wearing her uniform – most of it. The jacket has been discarded over the back of a chair and her boots have been kicked off into the closet, but other than that, she's perfectly presentable. He looks like he just stepped off the bridge and maybe he has.

"Something I can do for you, Commander?" she asks.

"Just thought I'd check in, see how you felt about your first day back."

"I feel fine," she says. "Nothing to do but soldier on."

"That's the Janeway motto," he says, smiling. She doesn't feel uncomfortable around him, but he's still mostly a stranger. She understands that they are – or were – close. He's her number one and there were all those vague log entries about being left on that planet. He certainly is attractive and kind, but she just doesn't know him. She can't predict him.

"I remembered something today," she says, extending her arm to offer him a seat, which they both take. There is a teapot on the table but he doesn't want anything.

"That's great news," he says, looking genuinely pleased. "What was it?"

"Sandrine's," she says. His face falls slightly.

"The holodeck?" he asks. "Paris's bar?"

"It just popped into my head," she says. "I know it's not a useful memory, but it's a start."

"It's a good start," he assures her. "I haven't been to Sandrine's in years. I thought Paris didn't even run it anymore."

"We played pool and beating him felt strangely familiar," she says.

"You and Paris." Chakotay stops here. It already sounds like an accusation so he reconfigures his phrasing. "He's been helpful to you?"

"Yes," she says. "He seems so genuine."

"Paris?" Chakotay says again.

"I know you two aren't best friends, but maybe you just don't know him as well as I do." Janeway squints as she thinks about her words. "Which is sadly ironic."

"Paris and I have learned to live together," he defends. "And I'm glad he's helping you. I wish I could do the same." He pauses. "Kathryn, the doctor told me about your visit to sickbay."

She sits up stiffly, carefully removing any expression from her face.

"You left so abruptly, I was worried," he continues. "If you were feeling overwhelmed, why didn't you talk to me?"

"What can you do?" she asks. "You can't cure me and you're already shouldering your load plus mine."

"I could listen."

This is a sweet gesture and one that strikes as something Chakotay would say. It isn't a memory but it's close.

"Now I know," she says. "Today, Sandrine's, tomorrow the rest, okay?"

He understands the diplomatic dismissal and stands.

"Your memory is going to return," Chakotay promises. She is so tired of people saying that to her.

"Goodnight, Commander," she says. When she's alone, she peels off the rest of her clothing and puts on her peach nightgown. Maybe sleep is the best she should hope for.

oooo

A few hours later, the ship is shaking and the red alert klaxons rudely force her awake. Her first instinct is to throw on her uniform and it is only when she is en route to the bridge does she wake up enough to feel scared and unprepared.

The bridge is dark and most of the people there look rumpled and half-awake. Tom is already at the helm with the back of his turtleneck fastened incorrectly.

"Report," she demands. Tuvok fills her in – spatial anomaly collapsed their warp bubble. At least strangers aren't firing at the ship. Chakotay appears now and she listens to Tuvok explain it all again.

"Warp and impulse engines off-line," Tom says and she walks down to the helm to look over his shoulder at the display.

"Use the thrusters to try to break us free," she says to him, watching the data feedback from thruster control. Tom pushes them as hard as he can but Voyager doesn't budge.

"B'Elanna's already working to get impulse back online," Chakotay says. "But it's going to be at least an hour."

"And the ship?" Janeway asks Harry Kim who came to ops in his pajamas. Harry can never remember small details in the heart of a crisis – Janeway almost misses his reply because she's surprised at remembering that small fact.

"There's a minor drain to the shields, but we'll be fine for a while," he says.

"I'll be in Engineering," she announces. Tuvok's eyebrow twitches but does not rise, exactly.

"Captain?" Chakotay asks. Before, one could not pry Janeway away from her bridge during a crisis but now, she feels useless.

"I don't know what I'm doing up here," she admits, helplessly. Perhaps she shouldn't say such things in front of junior officers but it's true. "But I can still help repair the engines."

They let her go. She outranks them all and none of them know how to stop her. She knows the way to engineering, has studied a map of the ship but if she walks without thinking too hard about the route, she usually finds places just fine. Engineering is teeming with repair teams and there is an acrid, smoky smell in the air. When people see her, they are torn between hurrying off to their destination and standing at attention.

"Where is Lieutenant Torres?" she asks a redheaded man. He points to the elevator and she nods. The ride up is quick and she can see B'Elanna across the catwalk shouting orders to people who are nodding sleepily still.

"And someone silence that damn alarm," B'Elanna yells. She's standing right under the speaker of the klaxon. This is something Janeway can do. She looks down at the console in front of her and accesses the emergency systems. When the noise ceases, B'Elanna looks up.

"Captain!" she says.

"I came to help," Janeway explains. B'Elanna looks like she wants to argue for only a second before she nods and hands Janeway the engineering kit she's been holding.

"We lost the Deuterium in the port fusion reactor," she says. "We need to seal the fracture before we try to reinitialize."

"What about the auxiliary reactors?" Janeway asks, heading for the tube access port just outside the engineering doors. The reactors are located on the aft wings – there is going to be some crawling to access the right systems.

"Do you want me to repair the main systems or spend my time trying to figure out why the redundant system didn't kick in?" B'Elanna asks.

"Can't you do both?" Janeway asks. B'Elanna looks like she's going to throw a punch but Janeway smiles to show that she's kidding. B'Elanna just angrily rips off the cover to the panel and starts crawling in. Janeway follows, her gait awkward while holding the kit. B'Elanna isn't even thirty and navigates the tube with an ease that nearly disgusts Janeway but she presses on.

"Here," B'Elanna says, stopping in front of a hatch. They're going to have to climb up to the hardware to physically seal the fracture before they can reinitialize. "Give me the kit. I'll seal the fracture."

"I can help," Janeway says, moving to follow her.

"No," B'Elanna says. "I mean I need someone to read the data… you can tell me when I have it all the way sealed." She motions to the console. Janeway nods and settles herself in front of the display to monitor their progress. She's already sweating from being in the enclosed space. The gel packs powering the console emit heat and she can feel her face flushing.

Something nags at the back of her mind and she knows now this feeling is her brain trying to retrieve information. She is trying to remember. She reaches out slowly to the gel pack; it is clear and blue and her hand looks ghostly in the light. She can see the bumps of her veins just beneath her skin, the chipped nail on her index finger. When she touches the pack, she half expects it to burst, covering her hand with green mucus but when she finally comes into contact with it, it is warm but firm – depressing only slightly at her touch.

She takes her hand away and feels silly. The numbers are already improving – B'Elanna does quick work and in less than half an hour, she's climbing back down the ladder looking sweaty and more than a little grimy.

"We can do part of the reboot process from here," she says, using her forearm to wipe her forehead but it only leaves more grease on her ridges. Janeway starts pressing buttons to restart the reactor while B'Elanna is already crawling past her to get back to engineering. Janeway will have to stay here, alone, and wait for B'Elanna to do her part.

Janeway has been alone in her quarters, but everywhere else, there has been someone. A bridge full of crew, the holographic projection of the Doctor, Tom Paris. But now, she is truly alone, wedged deeply into a corner of the ship. She's in no rush to crawl back out and face the large number of people who continue to look to her for leadership and inspiration.

"Torres to Janeway."

She glances down at her communications device before tapping it.

"Go ahead," she says.

"You can pack it in and come back," she says. "We have impulse engines."

"Good work," she says. Part of her wants to sit there until someone comes and drags her out, but that is childish and so she climbs out of the tube, her knees throbbing and popping by the time she finally stands upright. She could go back to engineering but she knows she'd be doing so only to avoid the bridge.

The hour is beginning to catch up with people. She notices people yawning and leaning against the bulkheads as the do their work. On the bridge, Tuvok has dismissed the personnel who weren't on active duty back to bed until the proper shift change over. Tom and Harry are both gone. They'll be back in two hours, she knows. She orders the data sent to her ready room and settles in for a long twenty-four hours.

Chakotay comes in after a few minutes.

"Why don't you go back to bed?" he asks. "We can have all that data sorted into a report for you by the time your shift starts."

"I have a feeling going back to bed is not something I'd agree to if all my faculties were intact," she says, knowingly.

"No," he agrees.

"Why don't you go, Commander?" she says. "Between Tuvok and I, we can handle things for now."

"Yes Ma'am," he says, his eyes crinkling with his smile. "See you in a few."

By the time the day is over and Voyager is back flying and in almost normal shape, whatever that means, it's been more like twenty-eight hours. Janeway has missed two meals, one staff meeting, and an appointment in sickbay. She's standing in the turbolift trying to decide which of those to try and remedy first when the Doctor summons her to sickbay.

"I mean it!" His voice is tinny over the communications line and she wants, suddenly and rather violently, to decompile his program.

"I will be there as soon as I can," she promises. First she will go to her quarters and stand in front of the sonic shower for at least five entire minutes, drink another cup of coffee, and then, maybe, try to face the doctor for another scan that does nothing but take up time.

When she finally walks into Sickbay, nearly an hour later, the Doctor is nowhere to be seen. Instead, Tom Paris is sitting in the Doctor's chair with his feet on the desk, sound asleep. And oh, she is tempted to turn around and walk right out again, but this is actually a gift, she knows – sickbay without the Doctor.

"Mr. Paris," she says, not loudly but in at least a normal speaking voice. "Tom?"

He snores, lightly.

"TOM!"

Now, she never meant for him to fall completely out of the chair and she doesn't mean to laugh at him now. He's rubbing the back of his head and trying to glare at her at the same time.

"Ow," he says. "Uncalled for."

"You're the one sleeping on the job," she scolds. "Where is the Doctor?"

"Performing Seven's maintenance while she is regenerating," he says. "I'm supposed to, and I quote, wait here until the Captain decides to grace us with her presence. End quote."

"Well, I have," she says. "Sorry to startle, is your head okay?"

"Fine," he mutters, brushing off his uniform.

"You've always been exceptionally hardheaded," she says. "You'll be okay."

"How do you know?" he asks.

"Some things I'm just sure of," she says.

"Well, now that I'm up, I can do your scan," Tom says, holding out his arm to lead her to the bed.

"I'd like to point out that no other scan has fixed my brain so I don't see why this one will," she says, lying back.

"We're mapping your progress," Tom says.

"This is less about me getting better and more about the Doctor's research, isn't it?" she says, as he begins the scan.

"Yes," he says. "Yes it is."

She rolls her eyes but holds still.

"You are making progress," he assures her, looking over the scan. He doesn't understand it as well as the doctor, but he can see more connected pathways on the brain than in the last scan. "Are you remembering more?"

"I think so. I don't feel like I remember things, but sometimes I just know something that I didn't know before. Like when I saw Harry in his pajamas on the bridge." She grins.

"Oh, Harry," Tom says. He puts a hand on either side of her head to remind her to be still. He doesn't hold her head, exactly, but there is a light touch on her temples that is comforting and she tries to stay still for him. "How are you feeling otherwise?"

"Could use some sleep," she says and he makes a noise in the back of his throat that is in agreement. She decides not to comment on his earlier catnap. When he's finished, she sits up. Her shoulder twinges and she reaches a hand up to knead the muscles there.

"Let me," he says. "Consider it part of your medical treatment."

The fact that he tries to convince her before she answers either way sends up a red flag in her brain, but she ignores it.

"Okay," she says. He pushes her hair away from her neck. It isn't long enough to block him, but he touches it anyway before placing his thumbs against her tense muscles. He starts gently, only applying more pressure when she doesn't complain and a little more when she tilts her head to one side and her eyes slip shut.

"Okay?" he asks. She makes a happy noise low in her throat. Tom knows what he's doing, working out the knots one at a time as she sags deeper and deeper into relaxation.

Later, she won't be able to pinpoint exactly when it happens, but something jogs her memory. Maybe it's the way he worms his fingers beneath her collar to work skin to skin, or how he allows her to lean back against his chest, but one moment she is lost in a blissful land of relaxation and the next moment she is tense.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"I've… this moment… this situation," she says. "Oh my God."

"Déjà vu?" he asks, his brow furrowed in concern. "You know, that's probably a good sign."

"I should go," she says, getting to her feet. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

She's rushing into the turbolift and has already shouted for her deck before she realizes that Chakotay is in the lift with her.

"Everything all right?" he asks.

"I…" she hesitates. "What happened on that planet, Chakotay?"

"I'm sorry?" he asks, searching her face.

"On our planet," she says. "My log entries are… incomplete, like I deleted something and just now, I had this strangest feeling about you and about me and I think I practically gave Tom a heart attack by running out of there and I just need to know. What happened that I would erase an entire part of my life and what happened that a back rub just sent me into a blathering…"

"Kathryn," he says, touching her arm. "Calm down." He redirects the turbolift to his office. He is quiet until the doors close and then only speaks to order tea from the replicator. She'd prefer coffee, but perhaps just by looking at her he can tell she doesn't need any more. She wraps her hands around the mug and he sits next to her.

"Chakotay…" she starts.

"Nothing happened on the planet."

She looks at him and blinks. He shakes his head slightly.

"What?"

"We were there for several months, we had to live in close quarters and there were a few times that things got… tense, but you wanted our friendship to remain intact and you were right. We decided to keep our relationship the same and then Voyager came back."

"Nothing happened," she says.

"No."

"I thought… I thought differently," she admits. "Then why are there erased log entries? What was I hiding?"

"Maybe you weren't hiding anything," he suggests. "Sometimes thing things that are most important to me I like to keep here…" He touches his heart. "And only here."

She doesn't think that's the case at all, but doesn't say so. She'd be more convinced if he'd said something about not wanting Starfleet to read about an almost affair with her XO in case they ever got home. Now that feels like something she'd do.

"I want to ask you something, but I don't want to upset you," Chakotay says.

"Okay," she says. "Though your opening statement didn't leave me brimming with confidence."

"You've been spending a lot of time with Tom Paris," he says.

"He's been helping me readjust," she says.

"Is that all?" Chakotay asks.

"Are you asking me as a friend, or are you asking me as an officer of this ship?" she asks, narrowing her eyes.

"Can it be both?" he asks.

"What do you want me to do?" she asks. "I know I've been isolated in the past, that much I gather, but I can't keep everything to myself if I don't know anything!"

"There are other people on board willing to help you," he points out.

"You mean you," she says. "This isn't about me confiding in Tom, this is about me not confiding in you."

"No, this is about you using Tom Paris as a crutch," he says. "I think you can remember; I think you don't want to."

"Well," she says, setting the teacup down carefully. Her voice is steely. "I apologize for not recovering as quickly as you'd like, Commander."

"Kathryn," he says. "The Doctor sent me your results from earlier this week. Your brain is lit up like parade. There's no reason why you shouldn't remember everything."

"Is that your expert, medical opinion?" she asks.

"I'm trying to be honest with you," he says.

"I remember more every day," she tells him. "I remembered yesterday that you showed me how to speak to my spirit guide. Maybe you're right. Maybe I can access everything – maybe the pieces are all there but I just don't know how to put them back in order yet."

"Maybe," he concedes.

"I don't see how that gives you the right to judge me, however," she says, standing up. "I may be a little behind, but I'm still the captain of this ship. If you doubt my ability to lead this crew, there are official ways to relieve me of duty and feel free to take those. Otherwise, I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Ma'am," he says.

She walks out.


	4. Chapter 4

It would be easy to let herself spiral into depression. Already it feels like she's barely keeping her head above it and when she finally makes it to her quarters to get some sleep, she crawls into bed with her clothes on. She just barely manages to kick her boots off. She tries to remember when she was last in her bed but the memory of throwing the blankets off and rushing to the bridge seems like days ago, not hours.

When her door chimes, she is seriously close to tears.

"Come," she says, hoisting herself out of bed and walking back into the living space.

"Captain." The greeting is dry.

"Seven of Nine," she says. Seven hands her a report wordlessly. It feels too late for house calls, but in reality it is the evening, just after dinner time and not late at all. She wonders, in a job like this, how one ever maintains a normal, healthy sleep pattern. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she says, her hands behind her back. "How are you faring?"

"Fine," she says absently, scanning the report. She's been waiting for this one to show up all day. She would've liked it two hours ago, but it is very thorough and complete. Seven of Nine does good work.

"You are completely recovered?" Seven asks.

"Well," she hedges. "I get better every day."

"Do you recall that we have a dinner date scheduled for today?" Seven prompts. Even if Janeway had her memory intact, after a day like today, she doubts she'd remember it.

"No," she says, honestly. "But we can go now if you'd like." It's a kindness, a monumental kindness that Janeway doesn't order Seven out her quarters with a pointed finger and a harsh word. Seven looks at her with a critical eye and shakes her head.

"You would benefit more from sleep than nutrition," she declares. "Perhaps tomorrow?"

"Yes," she says, relieved. "Tomorrow."

As Seven is exiting, she hesitates in the open door way and then looks at Janeway over her shoulder. Janeway is struck by the image, there is something familiar about it, but she still can't quite place where she's seen it before.

"Lieutenant Paris is at the end of the corridor," Seven says.

"Oh?" Janeway asks, rubbing her brow.

"It appears as if he is hesitating about visiting you," Seven says. "He is pacing."

"Why don't you do him a favor and tell him to come on down," Janeway says, shooing her out. What's one more interruption? Her stomach feels fluttery and uneasy as the thought of Tom, and she blames Chakotay for that. His accusations ring in her ears still, that her feelings for Tom are less than platonic. Tom is nice, funny, and attractive, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know better or can't control herself around him. She's not a teenager. And maybe, underneath her blaming of Chakotay, there's a little bit of blame left for her self. It was her instinct to trust Tom - perhaps she should have held him at arms length until she found her sea legs once more.

When her door doesn't chime, she opens it to find him standing there, looking like she'd caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I remember demoting you," she says. She says it because she does, at that moment, have a very clear memory of yanking that pip off his collar, of the taste of hurt and rage in the back of her throat, at how clear and sure and blue his eyes had been as she'd done it, but she also says it because she doesn't really know what else to say.

"Fabulous," he says. "So glad you got that one back."

"So why are you a Lieutenant?" she asks, furrowing her brow.

"May I come in?" he asks. He doesn't want to talk about his failures in the hallway, she gets that, so she nods and he comes into the dark quarters. She should call for more light – this feels all too intimate, but she's just so tired. "You gave me my rank back about two weeks before your accident."

"My accident," she says. "I didn't slip off a ladder - a hostile race shot me."

"Yes," he says.

"Why didn't we go after them?" she asks.

"Sometimes we do," he says. "Sometimes it is more tactically sound to cut our losses, head for the hills, and patch up the wounded."

"I reinstated you as a lieutenant," she murmurs, sitting down on her couch. He doesn't wait for an invitation, but drags the chair from the desk and sits across from her, the coffee table between them.

"Well, junior grade," he jokes. "And even so, it's a provisional rank, so don't beat yourself up."

"Why are you here?" she asks. His smile falters.

"The truth?"

She nods.

"I'm checking up on you. You ran out of sickbay like the place was on fire," he says. "If you want to talk about it, I'm here."

"I wish we had a ship's counselor aboard," she says.

"That's not the first time I've heard you say that," he comments.

"I know that a ship on a mission less than two months doesn't generally get one, but deep spaces missions do and boy, could we use one."

"Well," he says. "I'm not a counselor. In fact, I'm one step above a field medic and that's only because you've forced me to spend time in sickbay, time I'll never get back, by the way. But... I am your friend and I'd be happy to lend you an ear." He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, and looks at her expectantly. She smiles and then laughs, turning her face away.

"It's not that easy," she says. "I'm not allowed to confide in anyone, let alone you."

"Let alone me," he says. "Ouch. You wound."

"You know what I mean," she says. "One day everything is going to fall into place and I'm going to be horrified at everything I've said to you over the course of this particular crisis."

"You really know how to make a man feel nice," he says.

"Sorry," she shrugs. "You know, Chakotay doesn't like you. I mean, he really doesn't."

"I know," he says. "I do my best not to give him a reason to be upset. But apparently I did. Did he say something?"

"He accused your intentions of being less than noble," she says and before he can argue she holds up her hand. "He accused mine of being worse than yours."

"He thinks what, exactly?" Tom asks. "I got summoned to sickbay and was told by Chakotay and the Doctor to help you. That's what I've done."

"I know," she says. "I think Chakotay is upset I talk to you more than him."

"I could've lied, you know," Tom says. "I could've twisted the truth to endear you to me. I could've said we were old friends, that no one understands being in Starfleet like we do, that I was your favorite, but I didn't."

"You are my favorite," she says.

"Huh?"

"I mean it seems that way at any rate." She picks up a PADD from the coffee table. She's been carrying it around - it contains key information about her life and several of her personal logs. "I let you slide all the time. I demoted you but that didn't stick." She tosses the PADD back down. "Which isn't to say you don't deserve it because I believe that you do, but there's something about you that Kathryn Janeway has a soft spot for."

"I don't know what secret logs you've been reading, Captain, but if anything, you're harder on me!"

"Please," she says dismissively. "I'm hard on B'Elanna. I'm hard on Seven. Every once in a while, I'm hard on Harry or Tuvok. You? No."

"You demoted me!"

"You disobeyed a direct order!"

"You threatened to destroy my shuttle," he argues.

"You were going to let me," she says. "Look, here's the point. You have been very helpful and I'm grateful. But, I think perhaps we should both get back on our normal schedules. I remember more and more and the Doctor really needs your help in Sickbay so…"

"Of course, Captain," he says. "I'll see you on our next bridge shift."

He doesn't wait for a dismissal before walking out – it isn't Tom's style.

oooo

Only rarely does Janeway find herself confused. Two months have passed since her accident and she is back on full duty. It's not that she doesn't remember things but sometimes it takes her awhile to find the information her brain is searching for. She feels sluggish, like a ship that is slow to the helm.

She tries not to think in flight metaphors.

She has a little trouble sleeping at night, but the Doctor tells her that's a side effect of being Kathryn Janeway and she never takes his suggestions anyway so she may as well get used to her insomnia. And when she does sleep, she has disturbing, unfamiliar dreams. They are unfamiliar in that she sees places and people that she hasn't met before. She dreams often of a sunny house on the surface of a planet – of a bedroom with cream walls and a blue bedspread. It isn't her room, it isn't anyone's room but in the dream, she sits on the bed and runs her hand over the soft, warm fabric. Then, she hears someone outside the door and sits up startled, and wakes up. It's unsatisfying and it's gotten to the point where she just wants to know who is on the other side, no matter what the consequence.

Tom Paris has become a model officer. She suspects she is being punished by his good behavior. Gone is the familiar friend who cracks jokes and invites her to the holodeck. Instead, he stands at attention and is never late for his duty shifts. When she goes into Sickbay – something that happens less and less now, he isn't there. Even when he should be, he's always out getting something from storage for the doctor, or healing a scrape on another deck.

He's avoiding her. She isn't an idiot, she knows he is but she can't exactly call him out on it. He's just doing what she wanted. She has hurt his feelings and not for the first time. Sometimes she catches him looking at her when he doesn't think she sees him and he looks wounded, his eyes dark and moody like when he was a teenager and she told him, in so many kind words, that is father didn't care enough to come to his party.

Her memory of that day is especially bad and she wonders if everything she knows is really a composite of what Tom has told her, what she's dug up in the archive of her own logs, and the pictures she saw in the holodeck. It's hard to know what to trust as true.

Eventually, though, she gets sick and tired of his clouded looks and walking into a room just to see him disappearing around a corner or between two closing doors. This is not better than him being overly familiar and informal and it's not better than a slight fluttering beneath her breastbone when she sees him.

She waits until he goes to the holodeck because these days he usually goes alone. It's unspoken, but the crew has divided itself in this latest break-up between B'Elanna and Tom and the division favors her heavily. In this instance, Janeway and Chakotay are on different sides of the fence for sure.

Neelix had made a fair point to her the other night over an after hours cup of coffee. She'd been trying to describe the experience of waking up and knowing very little and he'd said something awfully astute.

"It really begs the question," Neelix had said, softly. He was far less boisterous than she'd seen him. They were alone in the mess hall and it was almost dark. He seemed contemplative.

"Which question?" she asked.

"Who would you be if you didn't have to be you? If you had no preconceived notions, if you didn't know all the unspoken rules and secret pasts and failed relationships, I mean. Who would you be? Who would you love?"

Had she and Chakotay been close in the past simply because of forced circumstances? If she'd been stranded with Joe Carey or Harry Kim or Tom Paris on that planet, would it be them she shared late night dinners with or cups of tea in the ready room with?

Neelix words echo in her ears as she makes her way to the holodeck. If she could love anyone she wanted, whom would she love?

Tom is alone in the holodeck, but he's running a program she doesn't recognize. It certainly isn't one he's shared with her and it's not listed in the public database. That alone should be enough to turn her away but the holodeck isn't locked and so she uses her rank as justification to opening the doors and marching in.

The program is so small that she can't arrive unnoticed and thusly has no time to adjust before coming face to face with Tom. The programmed room has to be smaller than the actual holodeck and Tom stands up to face her.

"Captain?" he asks. "Did you need something?"

"I… uh…" She looks around, trying to buy time and find inspiration. It's a bedroom, childish – Tom had been sitting on the twin bed when she walked in. "This is the place from my dream."

She has to sit down. She feels a little woozy, like walking into a room with an altered atmosphere or gravity that is too heavy. It's like that first step on an alien planet after spending months on a ship.

"Your dream?" he asks, when she just continues to look around in mild shock.

"Where are we?"

"My bedroom," he says. "I mean, from when I was a boy."

"I've been here before," she says, running her hand over the bedspread. The program is far more accurate and detailed than her subconscious, but it's nearly the same. The trophy sitting on the wooden desk, the closet door slightly ajar.

"Have you?" he asks.

"Why do you have this program?" she asks, looking at him. He's seated himself again, but put several inches between them.

"I've written holoprograms for every place that was important to me," he says. "Sandrine's, my first academy dorm room, the park where we used to play hoverball…" He shrugs. "Maybe it's silly."

"No," she says, quickly. "It's sweet."

"You've been in my bedroom?" he asks, with the quirk of an eyebrow and it's almost the old Tom for a minute, teasing her.

"I can't quite… I think I talked to your mother? I came up here to look around…"

"To snoop, you mean," he interjects.

"I call it investigating," she retorts. "And I think your mother caught me but I can't for the life of me remember what we talked about."

"She told you to take care of my father for her," Tom says.

"Yes! She told me to watch over Owen," Janeway says. "That's right. I was confused at the time. He was my superior officer and I was so young, still."

"You were the only one he talked to for a while," Tom says. "My mom told me a lot about my father when she was sick."

"Your mother is sick?"

"She passed away right before I joined the Maquis."

"Ah."

"Yeah, it would be easy to say that grief drove me there, but that's an easy out," Tom says.

"Well," she says. "You've helped me recover yet another memory. Thank you."

"I see taking care of the Paris men has become a hobby for you," Tom says.

"No," she says. "An honor."

He rolls his eyes and she smiles, admitting it was a slightly corny thing to say.

"Tom."

"Yeah?"

"I'm so sorry," she says. "I overreacted and I pushed you away and now I'm miserable because of it."

"Me too," he says. He's quiet for a moment and the air feels tense and a little charged. "I lost my virginity in this bed."

She stares at him, her mouth open a bit.

"Okay," he back-peddles. "That was supposed to be a joke to lighten the mood but now it's awkward."

"A little," she says, chuckling dryly. "I lost my virginity in a corn field."

He grins, his smile huge.

"I hope you never stop surprising me," he declares.

"Me too," she says, slapping her thighs. "Now, I have a dinner date with Seven of Nine."

"Don't have too much fun," he warns.

"Before I go, I think you should invite me to play pool tomorrow evening."

"You could invite me," he points out but she shakes her head.

"Wouldn't want to send the wrong message to a subordinate officer," she says.

"And what message is that?" he goads.

"See you tomorrow," she says, calling for the arch and walking through it. One day, she'll take his bait but not when he's sitting on the bed he lost his virginity on, even if it is just a replicate.

oooo

Both Tuvok and Chakotay try to talk her out of the away mission but she will not be dissuaded. Fresh air sounds like just the thing. It's just a scouting mission – they're looking for food and ore but there is something in the atmosphere that is interfering with the transporters and some of the deeper scans they're used to doing. Tom offers to take the Delta Flyer down and she volunteers herself and Seven to come along.

Chakotay walks all the way to the transporter room with, trying to change her mind.

"Let me go," he pleads. "Where if there's something down there our scans haven't picked up?"

"That's your best argument?" she says. "What if something is down there?"

Tom snickers and Chakotay tosses a heated glare over his shoulder at the pilot.

"I'll take good care of her," Tom offers, but this is just more goading and this time Janeway is the one who sends him a look telling him to back off.

"Chakotay, I have to get off this ship, even if just for a few hours. I'm not going into the great unknown, I'm just going to see if there's something better than leola root and if there is, I'm coming back a hero. So please, go to the bridge. We'll keep the comm. line open, and head back if there is, indeed, 'something' lurking down there."

"Yes Ma'am," he says, but he's not happy. They walk into the shuttle bay and he breaks off, circling the deck back to the turbolift. Seven is already in the Flyer, staring pre-flight but at the sight of Tom, she moves back into the chair at tactical and lets him finish. Janeway drops into the ops station chair and sighs.

"If there are monsters down there, I'll never hear the end of it," she says to no one in particular.

"Monsters?" Seven asks.

"Maybe they'll have terrible yellow eyes and we'll have a wild rumpus," Tom says. "And they'll make Seven their queen."

"Not me?" Janeway asks. Seven knows this banter well enough to simply stay out of it.

"I mean, _I'd_ make you queen, but with monsters, it's hard to tell. They're fickle."

They stop to get the shuttle out into space and then he has to navigate the descent through the atmosphere. Janeway keeps and eye on the data being fed through her station, but Tom is perfectly capable of landing any aircraft so she doesn't worry too much and tries to enjoy the ride.

When they're setting down, Seven looks at her and says, "What's a wild rumpus?"

Janeway laughs.

The atmosphere is humid and warm and Janeway is immediately sweating when she steps out. The foliage is dense, but Tom seems to think that most of the edible food sources will be nearby. Seven is already scanning and Janeway does the same. They're just gathering information – if things look good, they'll send down teams to harvest and mine.

"Janeway to Voyager," she says.

"Chakotay here," comes the response, but the channel isn't particularly clear and his voice sounds gravelly and distant.

"We're beginning to scan now," she says. "But other than small wildlife, I'm not reading any life signs."

"How disappointing," he says, sarcastically. This means he's forgiven her, or at least given up at being upset.

They move through the plants slowly, and soon, emerge into a clearing where a stream trickles by, clear and full.

"I think we've found Eden," Tom says. "Captain, we haven't had any R and R that didn't deteriorate into a horrible crisis is months."

"I'll get Chakotay to organize a few days," she says, winking at him. "And it seems like the northern climate is more temperate. Let's do and low orbit in the Flyer and see what we can scan before heading back."

"Happy to," he says, merrily. They stay on the planet for the rest of the hour before heading back to the shuttle. Back in the Flyer, Seven heads to the back of the shuttle to start cataloging the samples they'd gathered. Doing a low orbit slow enough to scan is going to take a couple hours, but it feels like a joyride. Tom starts out doing a few fancy moves just to impress her.

"All right, show off," she says, finally. "One more sudden dip and Seven is going to come up here with a phaser rifle."

"Or nanoprobes," Tom says, wrinkling his nose.

"Straight and steady, please," she requests.

"Aye, aye," he says. They quiet down. She leans back in her chair and lets her eyes close for just a moment.

"I could use a cup of coffee, how about you?" Tom says softly. She opens her eyes.

"Yes," she agrees.

"I'll put it on auto, you keep scanning," he says. "I'll be right back."

Janeway slips into his chair instead, craning her neck over the console to look out the viewport. There's nothing about the landscape that is at all familiar and all she can see is the tops of some trees and the rise and fall of the ground. They are too far to make out any animals and there doesn't appear to be any structures.

"Here," Tom says. Her coffee is hot and black and she takes it. He doesn't ask her to relinquish the chair, but instead sits down to monitor her scans.

"How's Seven doing?" she asks.

"Not particularly chatty, extremely efficient, not thirsty," he says. She smiles – more lifts a corner of her mouth.

"Sounds like our girl."

"Actually, I believe she said she didn't require nutrients at this time," Tom clarifies.

"Did you tell her coffee has no nutritional value?" Janeway asks.

"Do you really think that's the way to win her over?"

"Touche," she says. She blows across the top of the mug before taking a sip. She's seriously considering replicating a muffin when something on the monitor starts beeping and the computer announces that autopilot has been terminated.

Janeway isn't sure how Tom gets to her so fast, but suddenly he is there, leaning awkwardly over her shoulder in an effort to keep the shuttle level. There isn't space for the both of them and he's practically in her lap by the time she tries to stand up and get out of his way.

"Captain…"

"I know," she says.

"You need to move…"

"Trying, I'm trying," she says. Finally, Tom gets into the seat and she gets onto her own two feet but then his hand slips and the shuttle dips drastically. She feels herself losing her balance and falling. If this were the holodeck, she'd fall back into Tom's lap and they'd blush and fumble and laugh and it'd all be very charming, but this is real life so she slams into the bulkhead instead.


	5. Chapter 5

She decides not to open her eyes quite yet. She can hear everyone arguing – the Doctor is ordering everyone out of the sickbay, but Chakotay is yelling so loudly that the Doctor is hardly audible.

"…stupid and irresponsible! I can't believe that you lost control of the shuttle _you _designed! Some pilot you are, Paris."

"Chakotay, I wasn't even at the helm!"

"_Commander_ Chakotay!"

"Sorry, sir, Commander, sir," Tom says, but the sarcasm isn't exactly hidden.

"You know what? You can get yourself to the brig Lieutenant, I've had just about enough of you," Chakotay says.

"On what charge?" Tom demands.

"On being a smartass, that's what," Chakotay says.

"I really must insist that both of you leave at once," The Doctor says again.

"Oh, he's leaving," Chakotay says smacking his badge. "Security!"

"Really, Commander, ask Seven. It was a computer malfunction – the interference from the atmosphere made the computer miscalculate the auto navigation, it wasn't my fault!"

"I told you to keep her safe, not give her a concussion when she's already brain-damaged and if you weren't so busy sucking up to her, maybe you'd earn that reputation of being a hotshot pilot by actually flying sometime, you pompous-"

"Okay," Janeway says, struggling to sit up. "That's enough."

"Captain!" Tom says, coming over to the side of the bed. The Doctor scowls at him and elbows him back so he can run his tricorder across her.

"How do you feel?" he asks.

"Like I hit my head really hard," Janeway says, squinting up at them. The light hurts her eyes. Tom has moved to the other side of the bed and Chakotay is still hanging back, looking upset.

"Sorry about that," Tom says sincerely.

"It wasn't your fault," she says. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Lieutenant Paris was the pilot, not you," Chakotay says. "Ma'am," he adds when she shifts her gaze to him. She thinks the fact that she can't yet fully open her eyes is making her appear mean.

"I shouldn't have gone, you were right, Chakotay," she says, batting away the Doctor who was trying to keep her lying down. "I'm fine."

"Please," the Doctor says.

"Please let him finish," Tom echoes and she rolls her eyes and lies back and it is a little better to not be moving.

"Did you at least leave the bruise as a war wound?" she asks the Doctor.

"Sorry," he says. "All right, gentlemen, I need to speak to the captain for a moment." No one moves. "Alone!"

"Try not to come to blows," Janeway begs, her head pointing at Tom but her eyes on the Commander. The men leave and stand, she knows, just on the other side of the doors.

"Captain, you need to rest," the Doctor says.

"I really feel okay," she promises.

"Well you aren't," he says, bluntly. "You need to rest and recover. The brain is adaptable, but not indestructible and one more blow to your head is going to be one too many, do you understand me?"

"What do I have to do?" she asks.

"One week, no duty," he instructs. She opens her mouth to argue but he shakes his head. "I want you to sleep at least 8 hours and I will restrict you to your quarters if I think you aren't getting enough rest."

"Why not just throw me in the brig?" she asks.

"If you think you'd be more comfortable," he agrees.

oooo

She is so bored. The first day she really did sleep and when she was awake she ate and read and it wasn't so bad. The next day she wasn't quite as tired so she spent a lot of time with the ship's library reading famous literature and listening to music. She took a bath and tried to make a more complicated dinner with the replicator but now it is day three and if she has to stay in her quarters for one more minute, she'll just go completely crazy.

She won't go to the bridge, she knows she won't get away with that, but the mess hall is neutral territory and it is lunch time so she slips on her shoes and leaves her quarters behind. Sometimes she feels like an abandoned old woman, unmarried and a burden on her family. When people see her, there is always half a beat before they smile or greet her. She sees it and knows what it means.

In the mess hall, Tuvok rises and doesn't sit back down until she is settled. They share a two-person table near the view ports. He tends to eat alone but he seems amiable to her company.

"Tuvok," she says finally. "What if I'm not the same person I was? Ever?"

"Each moment that passes, we are different than the moment before," he says. "Perhaps the struggle to regain who you were before is not the point."

"You're saying I should just accept what happened and move on?" she asks.

"It seems the most reasonable course of action," he says.

"That is very practical advice," she says.

"You don't seem pleased to have received it," he comments.

"I keep waiting for a magic cure," she says with a sigh, resting her chin on her left hand. He raises an eyebrow. "I know, I know. Not very logical."

"Not very, no," he says.

She looks up to see Tom and Harry walk in. Tom winks at her before they get into line for food.

"I'm sorry, did you just wink at the Captain?" Harry says, both enthralled and repulsed by Tom's uninhibited relationship with Janeway.

"No," Tom says, quickly. "Well, you know, informally."

"Is there a formal wink?" Harry asks, his brow crinkling.

"Shut up, Harry." Tom picks up a tray and hands it to Harry before getting one for him self. By the time they have their food, Tuvok has left and the Captain is sitting alone, finishing her coffee.

"Harry, do me a favor and beat it," Tom says. Harry is wise enough now to say nothing and slip into a seat at a table occupied by Megan, Ayala, and Pritchard from the Beta security team. A few years ago, Harry would have questioned him endlessly about his intention, but now Harry just shakes his head and does his best to stay out of it.

"A lady should never dine alone," Tom says. "May I?"

"Be my guest," Janeway says and Tom sits. "But I'm afraid you're a little late for the dining."

"You wouldn't let me eat alone, would you?" he asks.

"Alone? Please don't pretend that we all didn't see you blow off Harry just now," she says.

"Caught," he laughs. His face sobers a little. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Fine," she says. "Bored."

"Bored is better than unconscious," he says. "I really am sorry for… well, I shouldn't have depended on the autopilot."

"We both know that wasn't your fault and Chakotay was just feeling overly protective," she says.

"He let security drag me half way down the corridor before calling them off," Tom says. "Though it has been a while since I've seen the brig. Maybe I'm due?"

"No," she says seriously. "No."

"If you're bored," he says, changing tactics. "I could probably come up with something to entertain you."

"Strange how it almost sounds like a threat when you say it," she says. "But if it saves me from another night alone in my quarters, I suppose I'm game."

"I'll meet you in holodeck one after the shift change," he says. "Don't be late."

"And if I am?" she asks.

"I'll make you play another chapter of Proton as Arachnia."

Her face is blank.

"Queen of the spider people?" he asks. "You don't…?"

"Oh I remember," she says. "I'm just _trying_ to forget."

oooo

The Doctor had been quite clear about what he considered rest, so Janeway knew not to except an exceptionally thrilling evening as she approached the holodeck. She thought maybe a sail or even a round of golf sounded nice. What she didn't expect were other people besides Tom.

When she walks in, there isn't a program running. Instead, Tom, Harry, and a reluctant looking Seven of Nine are standing on the grid, arguing.

"What's all this?" she asks. "This depth of programming, everyone getting along, is this all for me?"

"Sarcasm," Seven states, as if to inform everyone of her lack of amusement.

"I just think you need four for any really good holo-adventure, but we can't seem to agree on what to do," Tom explains. "I was going to call up Sandrine's but…"

"It's boring," Harry says. "I wanted to do something outside…"

"But the Doctor said nothing strenuous," Tom says, cutting off Harry in turn.

"Just because something is outside doesn't automatically make it an extreme sport," Harry says.

"And what did you want, Seven?" Janeway asks.

"To leave the holodeck," she states. "But since you are damaged, I've been informed that I should oblige Lieutenant Paris."

"Your generosity is duly noted," Janeway says. "And I think I have an idea, if you'll allow?"

Tom nods and she goes over to the console and calls up a program.

"Where are we?" Harry asks as the grid fades to a warm, outdoor landscape. Tom answers before Janeway has the chance.

"California," he says. "Napa?"

"Sonoma," she corrects. "Lovely, isn't it? This program is set in 2178, before the technology boom took over the landscape."

"Wine country," Tom says. "Drinking outside. And who says we can't all get along?"

"There's a winery just over that hill," Janeway says. "Am I allowed to walk or is that too much exertion?"

"Computer," Tom says. "Golf cart for four."

Seven isn't much of a complainer, but she looks like the last thing she wants to do is get into the cart. In fact, her blue and silver suit makes her look wildly out of place in the surrounding landscape. Tom and Harry are both in uniform and she is so used to the industrial fabric and colors that she hardly sees them. The only one out of their normal garb is her self. She had to reason to put on her uniform this morning, so she'd stuck with neutral, comfortable clothing. Black pants and a beige blouse. In this warm, albeit false, climate, she's going to be the most comfortable. Tom is already unzipping his jacket as he climbs into the driver's seat.

"Why do you always get to drive the old cars?" Harry grumbles, climbing into the back.

"You don't really want me to tell these fine ladies about our NASCAR experience, do you?" Tom says turning the key. Harry says nothing. Janeway climbs in the front and Seven behind her.

"I do not understand why I am participating in this activity," Seven says, though it sounds precariously like a grumble.

"You agreed you wanted to help the captain," Harry says.

"Everyone in?" Tom says. "Here we go." He presses his foot to the accelerator and they all jerk a bit, but the cart doesn't go very fast and slows even more as they start to climb the gentle slope. "Yeehaw," he says.

"This isn't helping," Seven says.

"You're helping," Janeway assures her, glancing at Tom with a smirk. "I already feel better."

The winery comes into view as they crest the hill and everyone falls silent. It is a huge, sweeping compound surrounded by vineyards. The leaves on the vine are starting to turn gold and red and the sun is just beginning to set.

"Who designed this?" Tom asks, the first of them to recover their senses.

"I don't know, why?" she asks.

"They deserve a handshake," he says, pulling into the long, curved driveway.

"I'm pretty sure they were just replicating nature," she comments. "Now it barely looks like this."

Tom stops the cart and Janeway is the first to get out and walk up to the large wooden doors. The doors have to be ten feet high at least and white wood and beveled glass windows. The building itself is made of brick and rises high with turrets and balconies. Anywhere else it would be ostentatious, but for a winery, it is simply grand.

"It looks like a castle," Harry comments. "Can we go in?"

"It isn't real, Ensign," Seven points out. "It's a simulation."

Harry flushes.

"I just meant, it's the Captain's program," he says.

"Let's go in," she says, pulling open the door. The inside is just as impressive as the outside. They all stand in the foyer with their mouths open – except for Seven who looks around with no expression. There are several tasting rooms that shoot off of the main foyer and in them they can see holographic patrons and wine makers tasting and chatting as the stand at the high bar. Janeway is strangely unsettled among strangers now, even holographic ones, and wishes immediately that they were alone. She glances at Tom and somehow he just knows.

"Computer, delete characters," he says.

"How are we supposed to know what we're drinking?" Harry asks.

"Read the label," Tom says, walking up to one of the tasting bars and hopping over it. "Now, who wants a drink?"

"Tuvok to Seven of Nine."

They all turn to look at Seven to taps her comm. badge almost too quickly.

"Seven here."

"Please report to astrometrics," Tuvok says.

"Do you think she planned that?" Harry asks once she is gone. "Like, asked Tuvok to wait twenty minutes and then summon her?"

"Well I do now," Janeway says. "Though maybe it's for the best. Seven doesn't seem like she'd be much of a drinker."

"She can't hold it at all," Harry says. "Remember when…"

"Harry," Tom says, softly.

"Oh," Harry says, chastised. "I'm sorry, Ma'am."

"I remember some things!" Janeway says. "Tom, you didn't even give me a chance."

"We didn't come here to talk about memories," Tom says, pulling a bottle out from behind the bar. "We came to make new ones."

"Okay, so the program is fake but the wine is real," Harry says, watching Tom uncork the bottle. "Who pays for it?"

"Whoever activates the program," Janeway says. "But it's still synthahol."

Tom gets three glasses and sets them out in a line. At a real winery, he'd only put a splash in each glass but this time he fills each up half way.

"What can you tell us about this wine, sir?" Janeway asks, picking up her glass and smelling the liquid. Harry swishes it around in his glass, but manages to slosh it all over his hand.

"Merlot," Tom says, looking at the bottle.

"That's it?" Harry asks, wiping his hand on his pant leg.

"What am I, an expert? Just drink it."

Harry brings the glass to his face and sniffs it.

"Torres to Kim."

Harry sets the glass back down.

"Kim here," he says.

"Harry, could you come to engineering and give me a hand with something? I know you're off duty but…"

"I'm on my way," Harry says.

"Thanks. Torres out."

B'Elanna had that distracted tone she got when she was working on some complex, theoretical project and now Harry doesn't look directly at Tom and Tom won't raise his eyes past the gleaming surface of the wooden bar.

"Go ahead, Harry," Janeway says gently. "We'll see you later." She watches him disappear through the arch and the arch fade back into the scenery. "And then there were two."

"He doesn't like to choose sides," Tom explains. "He doesn't want to pick me over her but he's my best friend so it's hard."

"He doesn't have to choose," Janeway says kindly. "And anyway, aren't there fraternizing policies on this ship?"

"Yes," Tom says. "There are fraternizing policies aboard every starship, but you made the choice early on, I'd imagine, to allow the natural progression of relationships rather than force us all to be alone for seventy years."

She takes a drink of her wine.

"And anyway," he continues. "People should choose sides. B'Elanna works really hard and I like to spend my time weaseling out of work and having fun."

"You work hard," she promises.

"Captain, listen. I'm here in the holodeck drinking wine with my boss's boss telling her about how I slack and my ex is pulling all the brightest minds in the ship to help her with her little pet project," Tom says.

"I don't think you slack," Janeway says. Tom scoffs and drinks deeply from his glass. "Hey, let's try another one."

"Sure," he says. "There's a Chardonnay or a White Zinfandel, do you have a preference?"

"Chardonnay," she says. "I like white wine better anyway. Red wine always knocks me out too soon."

"Drunk Janeway, now there's something I'd like to see," he muses.

"Fake drunk," she corrects.

"Well, we'll try to avoid any exciting or harrowing situations," he says, pulling the cork out and filling fresh glasses. Actually, cadets learn early how to hold on to their buzz with the synthetic alcohol, how to stay relaxed so the feeling doesn't disappear with a rush of adrenaline to the system. She tastes the wine.

"I like this much better," she proclaims. "Come on, take the bottle; let's go see the grounds."

Around the back of the building, there are a few picnic tables and a pond. They take a seat and look out over the water. A couple ducks float by.

"Tom?"

"Yes?"

"What if…? What if I can't ever…?"

"You're going to be fine," Tom says, and it feels like the thousandth time he's said it, but he really does believe the words. "This week off is a precaution. You're fine."

"I feel fine," she agrees. "I feel good but I don't feel like me. I don't want to work, I want to wear clothes that aren't my uniform, I want to go down to alien planets, I want to spend time on the holodeck with you instead of in my ready room reading the same report every year for the rest of my life."

"You wanted those things before," Tom assures her but she shakes her head, she doesn't think that's right.

"I was better before," she says.

"No, listen to me. You were tired. You were stressed out. You never had fun, you were miserable and unhappy and alone. Nobody wants that. But you aren't a different person. All this has done is force you to take a break! To reevaluate what's important. You thought only working yourself to death was important but there are other things to consider."

"Like drinking wine with my handsome pilot?" she asks, tearing her eyes away from the water and meeting his gaze. He looks earnest; looks like he really wants her to believe him. She has seen this expression on his face before.

"Like doing something just because it's fun," he says. "You can still do your job and have a life."

"How do you know?" she demands.

"Because the rest of us do it," he says.

oooo

Eventually, they have to vacate the holodeck to the person who has reserved the next block of time. Tom makes sure to get them out before the next person arrives. Janeway is flushed and happy as he leads her down the corridor. She's chattering on about being a science lieutenant and she keeps tucking her hair behind her ears as they go, like she's nervous about something.

"Yep," Tom says in response to a question he didn't really listen to. "Uh-huh."

He has to nudge her slightly around corners and into the turbolift. She's not paying attention to where they are going; faithful he will lead her the right way.

"Your father was the one who told me to change to the command track," Janeway was saying. "I never forced his kids to do something they didn't want to do."

"Of course you do, if not for you I'd be running a gambling ring on… wait, you didn't want to be in command?" he asks, stopping them a few feet from her quarters.

"I wanted to be a scientist," she says a little dreamily.

"But not captain?"

The title seems to snap her out of it a bit.

"I love being captain," she says. "I do."

"Come on," he says. "If the doctor finds out what we've been doing, he'll kill me."

"We were relaxing!" she says. "His orders!"

"I'm not sure wine was meant to be a part of that," Tom says. When Janeway doesn't open the door, he lifts her hand and pushes her finger against the panel so the door opens.

"Home!" she says.

"I have an early shift, Captain, so I'm going to say goodnight and thanks for a lovely evening."

"No," she says. "Stay a little longer."

It's hard to say no to her. Between the two of them, they've had three bottles of wine and while he's not loopy like she is, he still feels loose and slightly off kilter. Sober, it's hard to say no to her.

"A little longer," he says. "To make sure you're okay."

She rolls her eyes and flops down onto the sofa. He sits next to her when she makes it clear that is what she wants. He puts his feet up on the table and his arms behind his head. "What now?"

"Anything," she says. "For the next couple days, I can do anything. Well, except be productive."

"Oh, I see. We've entered the maudlin phase of your drunkenness."

"I'm not drunk!" she says.

"Well, you aren't sober," he chuckles.

"I don't meant to be maudlin," she says. "I just feel stuck."

He tilts his head toward hers so he speaks directly into her ear.

"It's okay to be stuck," he whispers.

She turns her head to look at him and suddenly they are very, very close. He glances down at her mouth quickly and then forces himself to look back up at her eyes but she saw it. The sudden rush of excitement and hormones, however, seems to clear her head rather abruptly.

"Tom," she says. He waits a beat for her to tell him to stop or talk about the late hour but she doesn't and so he does yet one more stupid and impulsive thing in his life. He presses his mouth to hers.


	6. Chapter 6

As always, when Janeway wakes up, she has to struggle to remember herself. It still doesn't come easily, nothing does. She must look around at the gray sheets beneath her, the chronometer on the utilitarian nightstand beside her, the stars streaking by.

Starship – Voyager – Captain. It all starts to trickle and then flood back. Janeway, she tells herself. Captain. Kathryn.

She rolls over, rubbing her face and feels a little sore and under slept. Another glance at the time shows it's her normal time to wake up. Did she go to sleep later than usual? She's trying to remember the details of last night when she realizes she can make out the pulsating noise of the sonic shower. She sits up quickly to hear better and when the blanket slides off her body, she realizes she's wearing only her underwear. No bra, no nightgown, just a pair of pale pink panties.

She wills herself to think. She remembers the Doctor ordering her to rest, going to the holodeck and… the wine and…

"Oh my God," she says. "Tom Paris."

She had sex with Tom Paris. No amount of synthetic alcohol would impair her judgment enough to make having sex with an inferior officer okay and yet she'd done it, as if this were not her life and she would never have to deal with the consequences.

She is a fool. She whips out a hand and gets her robe on just as Tom emerges from the bathroom in his boxers and his uniform shirt. She must look panicked because he immediately holds up both his hands.

"Let me explain," he says. Maybe he expects her to be angry and start yelling but instead she folds her body onto the bed and buries her face into her lap so he won't see her start to cry. "Please, don't overreact."

"Overreact?" she says through her tears. "I'm under-reacting!"

"I just mean… yes, we kissed but that's it!"

She looks up at him, her eyes wide and wet. Tom knows that it takes her awhile to piece things together in the morning.

"I woke up disheveled," she says.

"You went to sleep tipsy," he says. "I would never take advantage of you, ever."

She shakes her head and presses her hands to her face.

"Remember with me," he says, sitting next to her. "We went to the holodeck and Harry and Seven left. We drank the Merlot, the Chardonnay, the White Zin even though you hated it. Remember?"

"Yes," she says. "The ducks."

"Then I walked you home," he says. "You invited me in. We sat on the couch."

"You kissed me," she says, filling in the blank.

"Well," he says. "I'm not sure that I was the one… the important thing is that we kissed. We kissed for a while and then you were tired but you didn't want me to leave, remember?"

She does, a little. Loneliness will do strange things to a person; make even the most rational person desperate. She hadn't wanted to be alone.

"I stayed until you fell asleep and then I slept on the couch," he says.

"You promised you'd be here in the morning," she says, wiping her face.

"Can't break a promise to a lady," he says, his grin a little impish.

"I'm sorry," she says. "What you must… I'm so sorry, Tom."

"No, no," he says. "We are getting you well. That's all this is, steps toward making you well. Every morning you're going to remember a little bit faster."

"Not the memory! I'm your commanding officer and it is inappropriate for us to…"

"You aren't my commanding officer this week," he says and kisses her lips swiftly. It's over just after it starts.

"And next week?" she asks.

"Next week is next week," he says. "You can't spend your whole life worry about the future."

She nods, holding her robe more tightly around her frame. She's lost over five pounds since all of this has started. It's stress and confusion taking its toll.

"Why…" She clears her throat. "Why did I wake up so scantily clad?"

Tom raises his eyebrows and rubs his hand over his scruffy face.

"Maybe that's how you always sleep?" he offers.

She hugs her robe tighter.

oooo

Harry finds Tom in the research lab on the starboard side. It's unusual for Tom to spend any time in the research lab and unusual for him to spend time alone and especially unusual for him to do so off duty.

"I had a hell of a time tracking you down," Harry says, dropping into the seat next to him. Tom says nothing – his eyes barely flicker up from the screen. "I asked the computer the location of you and do you know what it told me?"

Tom doesn't respond.

"It told me you were in your quarters. You were not. Then it told me you were in the mess hall, on the bridge, and in your quarters again."

"I didn't want to be disturbed," Tom says pointedly.

"Tuvok will have your hide if he finds you've been tampering with the computer," Harry says.

"You going to tell him?" Tom asks, finally meeting Harry's eyes.

"No," Harry says. Tom lowers his eyes back to his screen.

"Good."

"What's wrong?" Harry asks. "You used to tell me what's wrong."

In some ways, being friends with Harry is like being friends with a woman. It's nothing against Harry, he's just sensitive. He needs to be handled with care. And while Tom would greatly love to tell Harry to leave him the hell alone, he also hates to see that wounded look take over Harry's young face. Harry is, after all, his best friend. Sometimes his only friend.

"I did something… rash," Tom says.

"Here we go," Harry says, leaning back.

"Maybe a little crazy," Tom adds.

"What?"

"I kissed her," Tom says.

Harry groaned. "Please say you didn't."

"Actually, I sort of think she kissed me – no, I deserve blame. We kissed each other," Tom says.

Harry looks confused. "But she hates you. I mean, not just a little, but the kind of hate that sticks."

"What?" Tom asks, furrowing his brow.

"B'Elanna truly hates you," Harry says. "She tells me at least once a day, including today."

"Not B'Elanna!" Tom says, obviously shocked. "God, not B'Elanna. Never again, never, never again."

"Oh," Harry says. "Then who are you kissing?"

Tom lowers his voice even though they're the only people in the lab.

"The Captain."

Tom isn't sure but he thinks he can see Harry visibly pale.

"That's… not even a funny joke," Harry says.

"Try, for a moment, to imagine her as the woman and not the institution," Tom begs. "She's had this terrible accident. She's scared and alone and still carrying the weight of this ship on her shoulders and every day the doctor forces her off duty is one more day she's further away from where she is supposed to be."

"So you kissed her because you feel sorry for her?" Harry says.

"No," Tom says. "I kissed her because it's Kathryn Janeway."

Harry doesn't understand that. To Harry, she is his captain. Harry doesn't know her like Tom does.

"Kathryn Janeway," Tom repeats, as if that explains everything. "Don't you see?"

Because Tom can see so, so clearly.

oooo

Janeway sits in the Doctor's office. He is speaking to her about going back on duty, about the risks and complications of this, her new life. Behind him on the display, there is a glowing, colorful picture of her latest brain scan. It rotates slowly, as if it is only decorative. Above it, it says _Kathryn Janeway_ and has her service number and the stardate.

"You need to sleep," the Doctor says. "You need to remember to eat. Don't think of these changes as having to do with your brain, think of them as basic human necessities because that's what they are."

There are a hundred smart aleck retorts but she holds each and every one in.

"Tom Paris…" She hesitates for just a moment but then pushes on. "Tom Paris thinks that I don't want my old life back, that subconsciously, I'm dragging my feet."

"Monuments could be built to the stupidity of Tom Paris," the Doctor says. She gives him a stern look. "He said that?" the Doctor adds.

"Not in so many words, but it's what he thinks," she says.

"Only you know what you are feeling and only you know what you want, Captain," the Doctor says. "Do you know what you want?"

Behind him, the brain spins and spins.

oooo

The scrolling text on the PADD is giving her a headache. Not a brain trauma induced headache, just the normal every day kind. She tosses it down none too lightly and thinks about lunch.

"Lunch?" Chakotay asks, his brow furrowing. He'd apologized as he always does and now they were back to the normal routine. She had so much to catch up on that they have been holed up all day in her ready room and she's sick of the place. "Captain, we've already missed dinner."

"Oh," she says. Yesterday, the doctor had lectured her on this very subject and not 36 hours later she has already messed it up. "I won't tell if you don't."

"Come on," he says, standing up. She can hear his knee pop and he gives her a look that tells her she'd better not comment. "I bet Neelix can scrounge us something up."

"I guess a break is deserved," she says, rubbing the back of her neck.

"No break," he demands. "We're calling it a day."

"I'm never getting caught up," she bemoans.

"So you don't," he says. "You know the important things and you have a good crew to carry the rest. Just wipe the slate clean and start anew."

He kind expression turns suddenly to one of horror.

"That sounded… I didn't mean wipe clean… in the sense that…"

"It's okay," she says, quickly. "I know what you meant."

"I'm sorry, Captain," he says.

"Kathryn," she says. "You used to call me Kathryn when we did this sort of all day marathon of paperwork."

"That's true," he says. "I wasn't sure if you still wanted that."

"I've been spending a lot of time thinking about what it is, exactly, that I want," she confesses as they exit on to the bridge. Everyone rises but she waves it off and they all sit as she makes a beeline for the turbolift. She's just passing through.

As promised, the mess hall is mostly empty. There's a small knot of ensigns on the couch, their heads bent dangerously low over a single PADD – "Betting pool," Chakotay supplies – and Neelix in the kitchen cleaning up, but otherwise, the room is empty.

"Shouldn't we stop them?" she asks, looking at the ensigns who have sat up straight at the site of them and are failing miserably at acting nonchalant.

"Keeps morale up," Chakotay says. "I only have to step in once or twice a year if things seem to be out of hand."

"And what's my role in it?" she asks.

"Don't ask, don't tell," he says. "Happily oblivious."

"But not really," she says.

"Officially," he agrees. "Hello, Mr. Neelix."

"Captain, Commander, good evening," Neelix says.

"Is it too late to get something to eat?" he asks.

"I just closed the kitchen," Neelix says, regretfully. "But I'd be happy to replicate you something."

"Oh well," Janeway says. "I can do that from my quarters."

"We're here," Chakotay says. "We might as well eat together." She can see that he is handling her, perhaps even doing the bidding of the Doctor or maybe just trying to be a good friend.

"You're right," she concedes. Chakotay is not a bad man – in fact, she suspects he is quite similar to her self. He stands heavily on principle just like she does; it's just that sometimes the principles aren't the same.

She lets him bring her whatever he's having. She hasn't been at all interested in food though she suspects that's how it has always been. There are things she likes more than others – a hearty vegetable soup, a well-cooked roast, brownies of any variety, but she doesn't seem to crave those things like others crave comfort food. She's seen Tom Paris pine for a grilled cheese sandwich for hours and then when he got it, the look of bliss on his face seemed ridiculously out of proportion to the event.

"How is Tom?" Chakotay asks politely. She had told the story out loud.

"Oh," Janeway says, pushing the tofu around on her tray. "How is any of the crew? Usually I know only when something is going wrong, not when things are fine. I mean, I don't get reports that says when people are perfectly fine, that would give me an absurd amount of data to get through every day so, you know, I assume he's fine, they're all fine."

"Kathryn," Chakotay says. "Don't take this the wrong way, but that made you sound like a crazy woman. Did something happen? Are you and Tom having a disagreement?"

"Disagreement?" she echoed faintly. "No, it's fine. We're fine."

"Tom is your friend, it's okay that you know how he is compared to someone you see once a week in passing," Chakotay says.

"I know that," she says, sounding a little stubborn now. "And I'm not crazy."

"No you aren't."

"Besides, Tom is 15 years younger than I am, how good of friends could we really be?" she asks.

"Tuvok is at least 100 years older than you and you'd consider him a close friend," Chakotay points out reasonably. Chakotay is always so reasonable lately, ever since their fight about Tom. Him asking about Tom now is being reasonable, showing that he trusts her. He speaks to her calmly and always has one or two solutions on hand and it's making her irrationally upset.

"He's _Vulcan_," she says, even more petulantly.

"Well, I think it's ageist," Chakotay says.

She glares at him and he smirks back.

oooo

"Captain Janeway," Tom says, stepping into the turbolift. "Commander Chakotay, good evening."

"Paris," Chakotay says, glancing at Janeway. She shakes her head slightly, a warning to him.

"Tom," she says. "Good evening."

Tom looks at the both of them, the silent communication there and decides against engaging in small talk for the duration of the ride. "Deck six," he says, instead.

It's a weird silence; not quite awkward, but when the lift stops and Chakotay bids them both a good night, he is relieved.

"Nice to see you two crazy kids made up," Tom says.

"We can't be romantically involved," she blurts. He sighs.

"You know what I miss?" he asks. "I miss, 'How was your day, Mr. Paris?' I miss, 'Good job getting us out of that harrowing situation, Tom.' I miss, 'Sorry for publicly reprimanding you for your off-color Bolian joke even though you could see me laughing.' Those were the days."

"What if Chell had been on the bridge?" she asks.

"I wouldn't have told it!" he says. "Captain, I can't tell you how to live your life but I would try – I will try to make you happy." The lift stops and he stands in the doorway for a moment. "And whatever you decide, I will do that, okay?"

"Okay," she says.

When she gets to her quarters, she starts the bath and takes her uniform off. Looking at herself in the mirror still gives her a little shock up the spine. She never expects to see what she sees – the lines by her eyes, the military bob instead of her long hair, her bony shoulders and sagging breasts.

It's hard to see what Tom Paris would want in the first place.

The bathtub is not normal. Generally, the Captain has some perk – a personal dining room for instance, but even for a Captain, it isn't normal. She'd had it installed the week before the ship had left dry dock, and it hadn't been ready in time. She hadn't gotten it operational until they were several months into the Delta Quadrant. She'd watched the log, her younger self, pulling the pins out of her hair as she spoke.

_B'Elanna came and fixed the plumbing for the tub today. When she saw it, she laughed._

She can remember the incident now, clearly even. When someone puts in a service request, it takes a while and generally, some engineering ensign comes with a kit and a tired expression to fix the shower or the replicator but Janeway had only just put in the request before B'Elanna herself showed up.

"You're the Captain," B'Elanna had said. "I'm not letting some barely out of the academy newbie crawl around on your bathroom floor, ma'am."

And when she saw the tub, she had laughed.

"There's a few more in a some of the VIP guest quarters," Janeway had told her. "Voyager was going to be a ship of diplomacy."

Now, Janeway eases her body into the water. That conversation seems a long time ago. Janeway does her best to avoid B'Elanna for anything other than work and yes, it's petty but she just can't seem to look the woman in the eyes lately.

From the edge of the tub, her communicator alerts her to an incoming message. She's set it to beep first so the voice doesn't startle her. She presses it with her wet thumb. She could drop it in the water and it'd work just fine.

"Paris to Janeway."

"Go ahead," she says, lazily, her head back against the tub lolling slightly.

"I've been thinking," he says. "You've been spending too much time alone."

"That is preposterous," she says. "It's been 45 minutes and this is the best you could come up with?"

"Can I come over?"

"No," she says. "I'm not decent."

"All the better," he says and she can hear him grinning.

"When I'm decent, I'll come to your quarters and you can feed me ice cream," she allows. "Coffee ice cream."

"Deal," he says.

"As friends," she clarifies. "Nothing untoward."

"Captain Janeway, I wouldn't dream of it," he says. "Paris out."

"Hmph," she says to herself.

When she shows up to his quarters, she's already second-guessing herself and her actions. Why had she given into him so easily? Her hair is still damp underneath and she tries to smooth it as she waits for him to invite her in. The door opens and he's there, holding two glass bowls of ice cream. One is brown – obviously the one for her – and one is green and spotted with chocolate.

"Ice cream heals all," he says, handing her the bowl and stepping aside so she can enter. "At least, that's what my sisters always said."

"They were right," she says, picking up the spoon. She thought this would be easier but now, all she wants to do is put the confection down and drag is mouth to hers. His lips cool from the ice cream, but hot on the inside, tasting of chocolate and mint.

"Captain?" he asks and she realizes she's been caught staring. She jerks her eyes up.

"What?"

"I asked if you wanted to have a seat," he repeats.

She sits on his sofa and he sits next to her. This time, the lights are bright. His quarters are much more cramped than hers and she can see his rumpled bed from where she is and past that, his bathroom. There's a small table and the sofa but that's about it. Still, he has it better than some of the other, lower ranking crewmembers.

Tom eats his ice cream and says nothing. He's giving her control of the situation. He's just happy she came over.

"When you were younger, what did you do for fun?" she asks.

"Got in trouble," he answers. "Sneak out of the house."

"Sneak out and do what?"

"Didn't matter," he says. "Even if I just walked around the block, it was enough to get the Admiral's attention."

"I see," she says.

"Don't do that," he says. "Don't say that all knowingly. You wanted your father's attention just as much as I wanted mine, you just got it differently."

"I worked hard," she says.

"I worked hard, just at different things," he says. "Maybe you just need to do something bad."

"I do plenty," she scoffs. "I'm bad to the bone."

He barks out his laughter, throwing his head back.

"Prove it," he demands.

This is her cue, this is her window to lean in and kiss him, to lick his exposed neck in one long, hot swipe – to let her hand travel across his thigh but she can't do it. She shouldn't do it. She won't do it.

Instead, she touches her head.

"I have a bit of a headache," she says, seriously. This sobers Tom right up and his face his honestly concerned.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," she says. "It just was… sharp."

"Come on, I'll take you to sickbay," he says, taking the bowl from her hand and dumping them both into the replicator to be recycled.

"I can go to sickbay myself," she says, but he pulls her up by the bicep and practically drags her out the door.

"The last thing we need to do is put off a serious symptom," he says.

"Tom, it's probably just brain freeze," she argues, shaking off his hand.

"I don't care if it's a bug bite, we're going," he says.

"Lieutenant…"

"Oh, ho, ho, no way is _that_ going to work," he says, ushering her into the turbolift. "You can pull rank from here to the Kazon home world, but we're going."

"And if I order you to stop this turbolift?"

"Then I'll sleep well in the brig knowing the Doc took a look at you," he says.

In sickbay, Tom looms over her bed to the point where the Doctor makes him go wait in the enclosed office.

"At least he can stare from over there," the Doctor mutters.

"I really am fine," she protests. "I feel perfectly normal."

"Everything seems okay," he says. "You probably ate your ice cream too fast."

"There is one… odd… symptom," she says, lowering her voice.

"Oh?" the Doctor asks, curiously.

"I've been having these… impulses that aren't normal," she says.

"What kind of impulses?" he asks, opening the tricorder back up.

"Impulses of the… inappropriately romantic nature," she mumbles.

"Ah," the Doctor says, glancing at Tom while Janeway refuses to look up from her lap. "That is a terrible symptom… of being human."

"Well I didn't have them before," she snapped.

"Oh, you had them," the Doctor says. "You just suppressed them with stress and coffee and insomnia and paperwork. Captain, here's my expert medical opinion. Forget your hierarchy and take what you need."

"Take what I need?" she says. "Could you have thought of a more terrible way to say that?"

He pauses for a moment.

"Yes," he says. "I could've said…"

She holds up a hand.

"I will consider your advice," she says.

"Now please allow Lieutenant Paris to escort you home. He's fogging up my glass," the Doctor says.


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm fine," she says again.

"Okay," he says, but he doesn't slow or break his pace with her.

"Stop brushing me off," she says. "Listen to me. I'm fine."

"Yes, ma'am," he says.

"You're an ass," she mutters.

He looks surprised at this – Janeway is diplomatic to a fault and gets even more diplomatic when she's upset or doesn't like someone. In all the years he's known her, in all the ways he's disappointed her, she's never cursed at him. She's cursed about him, but not at him.

"I'm worried about you," he says, stopping. She stops too.

"There's nothing to worry about," she says.

"You aren't worried?" he asks. "You don't wake up every morning, scared?"

"Why are you doing this?" she asks, crossing her arms.

"It's a serious situation and I worry about you because I care about you!" he says. "And pretending that it's all better and you can go back to doing exactly what you have been doing is insane!"

They're in the middle of the corridor several meters away someone rounds the corner and appears. They're both silent and resume their brisk pace until they get to her door. She could not invite him in, but when she opens the doors, he barrels ahead.

"Do not yell at me in public in my ship, Mr. Paris," she says, her voice dangerously low.

"I'm not speaking to my captain, I'm speaking to my friend," he defends.

"That distinction is a luxury I don't have," she says.

"You will make a fine admiral someday," he says. "My father never had the luxury of spending time with his family when the fate of the universe was in his hands. He didn't have the luxury of coming home for birthday parties or the weekend or dinner."

She cannot blink – she can feel the moisture gathering in her lower lids.

"How old were you when your father stopped coming home, Captain?" he demands.

"Eleven," she whispers.

"Managing your time is not about luxury," he says. "Living your life is not a luxury."

"How does it feel?" she asks, her voice still low. "How does it feel to live a life where that is true?"

He rubs his hands over his face.

"You have no idea what my life is like and it seems so easy doesn't it? You stand there and lecture me about rest and relaxation but you have no idea how this ship even runs past the warp core and impulse engines. You can't write a duty roster, can't salvage a cracked dilithium crystal, can't reset the security codes."

"Captain…"

"No, Tom! Get off your damn high horse and listen to me! My life is hard enough without you standing there telling me I'm doing it wrong. Now, here's what I need you to do, here's what _your_ Captain needs you to do. Get out of my quarters, get to work, and don't come back until you have something that can help me."

Tom knows enough to take her at her word; turns on his heel and walks right out the door.

oooo

The next morning on the bridge feels like, finally, everything is back to normal. And while it is not a particularly good or restful day of duty, there's no one that would argue that Janeway is not fully herself. Today, she rules with an iron fist, demanding constant updates on all systems, monitoring shift changes, and glaring down any idle chatter. Tom stays rigid in his chair. He is sorry, but he is equally as mad.

If Janeway wants to be an institution instead of a woman, who is he to stop her?

Even Chakotay falls in line. He doesn't question the Captain, doesn't lean in to offer suggestions. He follows her orders just like the rest of them.

Tom is discovered by Harry in the holodeck. He's running a simulation of a bar, but it isn't one anyone else has ever seen. It's dank and depressing and Tom sits at his stool nursing his drink.

Tom has broken something and with every drink, more and more he wants to leave it broken. And when Harry sits next to him and orders one of the same from the bartender, Tom wants to turn around and slug him.

"Go away," Tom mutters. When Harry's drink comes, Tom snatches it and throws it back before Harry has the chance. Harry wasn't going to drink it anyway, fake alcohol or not. Harry only drinks on his days off.

"You look like you need a friend," Harry says.

"You know what I need?" Tom asks. "I need you to take your stupid shiny universe where everything can be fixed with cookies and hugs and GET OUT."

Harry's face falls so low that Tom almost apologizes for his viciousness. But he really wants to be left alone to sulk.

"Fine," Harry says and slides off the stool. "But you should know if you drive me away too, you really will be alone."

Alone in the bar now, Tom presses his forehead against the sticky wood. No matter how hard he tries to make things right, they always come out fouled up.

As for Janeway, she lies in bed unable to sleep. This in and of its self is not so unusual, but the guilt that has settled low in her ribcage is a new addition. She can see where Tom was coming from, what he was trying to do, but that doesn't make him right. There are things Tom can't understand.

_So help him to understand_, her mind replies. She rolls over and rather aggressively fluffs her pillow with her fist. She forces her eyes closed, as if sleep will come due to sheer determination.

It's futile.

"Computer," she says, knowing it can't hurt to ask. "Locate Lieutenant Paris."

"Lieutenant Tom Paris is on Deck 9, Section 12."

Strange for the computer to answer so precisely. The computer tends to give a more colloquial answer like sickbay, the bridge, or personal quarters. She waits a few seconds and asks again but gets the same reply.

"Wait a minute," she says. "Computer, is Lieutenant Paris in his quarters?"

"Negative," the computer responds.

"Is he in the corridor?"

"Affirmative."

"Is he moving?" she asks, sitting up.

"Please restate the question within acceptable parameters," the computer requests. But she's already pulling off her nightgown and pulling on her uniform. It's the middle of the night, an odd hour and if Tom is sitting in the corridor outside his quarters it isn't because he forgot his house key.

She finds him as she suspects she would – passed out a few feet from his door. Just because the alcohol is synthetic doesn't mean it won't make someone a sloppy drunk. She frowns at the sight of him. His uniform is rumpled and she wonders if he'd even bothered to shave in the morning, his beard growth is so noticeable.

"Lieutenant Paris," she says, her voice stern. She's embarrassed for him and doesn't want anyone else to wander by, wee hour or not. "Lieutenant Paris," she repeats, a little more loudly. He is leaning up against the bulkhead, his chin at his chest and he twitches a bit but doesn't wake up. She rolls her eyes – she can smell the bourbon. "Tom Paris, wake up."

His head snaps up and his eyes are pink and groggy.

"Why are you in my quarters?" he asks.

"This is a new level of low for us," she says, crouching down to try to pull him to his feet. It's a struggle since he's mostly dead weight and when he finally puts in some effort, he almost knocks them both over by leaning all his weight against her. She pulls an arm around her shoulder and starts stumbling to his door. "I mean really."

"I went away," he says, looking at her. "I thought I went away like you said."

"You did," she says. "Computer, command-override Janeway Pi three-oh-six Alpha."

His quarters open and she lurches them inside.

"Hey, that isn't fair!" he says.

"Life isn't fair," she grunts, pushing him onto the sofa. He goes down with a thud.

"Ow," he manages.

"Listen to me Tom Paris," she says, pointing a stern finger at him. "You can't get drunk and pass out in the hall. This is conduct unbecoming to an officer and I will not, will not have it aboard my ship."

"Kind of too late," he mumbles.

"I was mean earlier," she says, ignoring his cheek. "And perhaps my cruelty deserves some alcohol on your part but you have to figure out a way to compartmentalize your personal life away from your duties as a bridge officer."

He blinks at her.

"What?" he says finally. She growls, frustrated.

"Go to bed," she says in a tone of mild discuss. "The computer will alert you first thing in the morning to report to Chakotay for extra duty shifts. Try to remember why."

"Yes Ma'am," he manages though she suspects he still doesn't quite know what's going on. There's a fair bit of symmetry here – it wasn't so long ago that their roles were reversed but she pointedly doesn't think of that as she leaves him alone to try to chase after those final hours of sleep.

oooo

She enters her ready room to find fresh flowers sitting on her desk. This is not unusual, Neelix leaves her flowers at least once a week, but these are replicated and she knows they're from Tom. She sighs and places them on the counter behind her desk. They're beautiful, of course, Tom knows exactly what she likes somehow, but she isn't sure what they mean. Are they an apology or Tom pressing forward on something they both know they can't have?

But in the morning meeting, Tom is clean-shaven, on topic, and a model officer. There are no shared glances or winks – he treats her like the Captain and nothing more.

"Good," she tells herself. "Good."

They eat at separately in the mess and he doesn't contact her for a game of pool, a cup of coffee, nothing when the workday is done. In fact, days pass where neither make mention of their previous and now seemingly waning closeness. When she stops in sickbay, he's there but she deals only with the Doctor. On the bridge, he offers suggestions, but never chimes at her ready room door.

This is her life as it should be. She is the captain, Tom Paris is her helmsman, and she goes to bed every night tired, stressed, and alone.

And it isn't until weeks later that they are forced to confront their issues. Starfleet advertises its self as having a life of adventure. Join Starfleet and live a unique and unpredictable, adventurous life. But the truth of the matter is that even the unpredictable becomes predictable if one is in Starfleet for long enough.

And the daily grind is just that – a grind. So when the chance for an away mission comes up, Janeway jumps at it. She jumps responsibly – chooses the right people for the away mission and that includes Tom. Generally, Chakotay leads exploratory away missions but when diplomacy and shuttlecrafts are involved, she likes to take point.

She takes Tom to pilot, Harry, Neelix and Tuvok in the Flyer. First contact situations are always tricky, but this species seems friendly and open enough to trading and this time, at least, Voyager's reputation has not preceded them. This species is, however, adverse to transporter technology and so they all climb in the Delta Flyer for the trip to the surface. Neelix and Tuvok stay in the aft section while Tom pilots. Harry sits at Ops and Janeway at tactical. As soon as they clear the shuttle bay is when the awkwardness truly sets in. It takes a few minutes to realize that the bulk of the tension is not coming from her and Tom, but Tom and Harry.

The only words spoken between them, any of them, have to do with the flight.

Finally, Janeway has to know.

"Are you two fighting?" she asks.

"No Ma'am," Harry responds instantly.

"Of course we are," says Tom.

"Why?" she asks.

"I have no problem with Lieutenant Paris," Harry maintains though his voice isn't quite as confident now.

"I was insensitive to him," Tom says. "And I have yet to apologize for it."

"I see," Janeway says looking at Harry who steadfastly refuses to meet her eyes. "Well," she sighs. "Can't you apologize now?"

"Do you really think this is the time or place?" Tom asks, finally looking over his shoulder at Janeway. His eyes look sad. She feels partially to blame for this – knows it's probably more than partially her fault.

"I think, gentlemen, that we need to be on our best behavior when meeting the delegates," she says. "We don't need any more enemies."

Both Tom and Harry stay silent, taking in her words and considering their next action.

"And," she adds, knowing guilt is often the most effective tool, "This is my first 'first contact' situation since I've gotten back on my feet. I'd like it to go well."

Tom clears his throat uncomfortably.

"If you all don't mind," she finishes.

"Okay!" Tom says, breaking first. "Just… fine. Harry, I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," Harry says.

"Thank you," Tom says, looking back at his panel. They all fall silent again, but the tension doesn't fade.

"Well, I don't think that worked," she says. "Maybe if I knew the nature of the argument?"

"Captain," Harry says. "Believe me when I tell you, things are fine and Paris and I will be model officers on that planet." There's a note of desperation in Harry's voice that tells Janeway he doesn't want to talk about it enough that the fight was probably about her.

Does Harry know? The thought strikes Janeway and she curses internally. He probably knows everything that she and Tom have shared in the last few months. Suddenly, she wants to look Harry in the eye about as much as he wants to look into hers.

"Fine," she says. "Good."

The computer chirps from the front of the ship.

"Entering the exosphere now," Tom says. The ride gets slightly bumpier as they descend through the layers of the planet's atmosphere. "The coordinates they gave us are coastal," Tom comments.

She can see the land mass coming toward them as well as the water and the closer they get to setting down, she can see that they're going to have to land right on the shore. Janeway enjoys the beach but she knows Tom has a special connection to the ocean having grown up in San Francisco. She can see the muscles of his jaw working as he carefully sets the shuttle down.

When the hatch opens, the first thing Janeway can smell is the salt air. Beside her, Tom tenses slightly. Tuvok makes it a point to step out first, followed by Janeway, then Neelix, Tom, and Harry. Neelix takes his job as ambassador extremely seriously and facilitates introductions immediately. It's warm on the planet, but breezy and though from where they landed the shuttle they can't see the water, Janeway can hear it from just behind the bluff.

Their hosts are tall and have pale, clear skin and bright jewel toned eyes. The three delegates are women and speak with Neelix softly. Other than formal introductions, they haven't spoken directly to the away party. Neelix had told them all in the briefing to expect this. As a race, they needed trade to sustain their economy, but preferred to keep a distance. The away team will deal only with the delegates and will be kept away from the population. They will speak to Neelix who will relay their wishes. Neelix comes over to her now. The delegates have turned their backs on the away mission and face the setting sun.

"Captain," Neelix says. "The delegates wish to show us to our accommodations and begin our negotiations."

"All right," she says. "Is everything all right?" She motions to the delegates, the way their slender necks are bent toward the ground and how they appear not to notice the people behind them.

"I believe so. They have arranged transportation for us. They said something about having to endure the heat while we wait for it?"

"Are you kidding?" Tom says. "This weather is spectacular."

"If this is heat to be endured, we should anticipate it being much cooler indoors," Tuvok points out.

"That's a good point. Harry, why don't you get the cold weather jackets from the shuttle just in case," Janeway says. When Janeway looks up, the delegates have disappeared, presumably over the hill and from the other direction, some sort of tram is coming toward them. It is unmanned but stops right in front of them just as Harry returns with the coats in a large case he carries on his shoulder.

"I suppose we should board," Tom says. There are three rows of two seats and Tuvok climbs in first. Janeway sits next to him and Neelix next to Harry and then Tom, alone, in the back. As soon as they are all in, the tram starts to go. It doesn't go exceptionally fast, but the experience is new and everyone hangs on.

"You know what?" Tom calls from the back. "I think I like these people." Janeway turns around to look at him. "No fuss, no muss," he says, shrugging. "I like it."

The tram takes them over the hill and down by the water. The landscape is barren, but beautiful. The sand seems rocky and the water is probably cold, but the air is fresh and Janeway knows her cheeks will be flushed and her hair tousled when she steps off the tram. For the first time in what seems like a really long time, she feels alive and happy to be so.

As they step off carefully off the tram into the rocky sand, she glances at Tom and he smiles back at her, a ghost of a smile, but she can see how it still lights up his face.

"Come on," Janeway says. "Let's make some friends."


	8. Chapter 8

While their hosts are kind and diplomatic, Janeway cannot say much for their endurance.

"It is time for a break," the lead negotiator announces not three hours into their session. "We will reconvene in four hours."

Janeway can't help but let her mouth open a little in surprise. It's such a long time and there's so much more to be discussed. They've only just offered their trade options and have yet to even decide what to ask for in return. There's still so much that has to be learned culturally, Janeway isn't exactly sure where their level of technology resides, or how advanced they are medically.

"Don't worry," the negotiator says in her highly, tinkling voice. "We've arranged accommodations for you."

It would be rude to deny them on their own home world and Janeway can see them all drooping slightly in their chairs so she nods and smiles.

"Of course," she says. "Thank you for your generosity."

Several of the junior delegates rise and the away party rises with them and follows them out.

"Lieutenant Tuvok, Ensign Kim," one of them says. "Please follow me."

"Mr. Neelix," another says. "This way please."

"Captain Janeway, Lieutenant Paris," a third one speaks. "I'd be much obliged if you would come this way."

The delegates start walking down hallways leading different directions. It's odd, the fact that they're being separated but the delegates don't pause and so Janeway nods and they all hurry to follow their appointed guides. They still have their communicators and their tri-corders - they even have their phasers. She isn't worried about being separated, but it strikes her as odd.

She and Tom are led to a large room with several couches and pillows. There's a table covered with food and doors that open out to the water. It's beautiful and she thanks their guide but she has to know.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but, is there a reason you separated us from our friends?" Janeway asks. The delegate looks just as confused as she feels.

"Your garments indicated to us that you should be divided for the rest time in this manner," she says. Janeway shakes her head, indicating she still doesn't quite understand. "On our world, people live with their clan and clan is indicated largely by a recognizable pattern." She points to Tom. "You have red shoulders."

"Thank you," Tom says, bowing his head slightly. "We understand."

"I will fetch you when it is time to resume," the delegate says and leaves them alone, shutting the door behind her.

Tom starts to chuckle.

"Very formal," Janeway says, looking around the room.

"Poor Harry," Tom says, his laughter not subsiding.

"Poor Harry?" she says. "Poor Neelix. Who is he going to talk to for four hours?"

Tom laughs harder and she can't help but join in.

But the laughter dies down and they are left alone - alone together for the first time in some time.

"I'm not remotely tired," Tom says, breaking the silence first.

"Me either," she says. "They're not much for work, are they?"

"I'm curious to see a big city," he says, walking to the window and peering out.

"I'm doubtful that will happen. We probably won't see anything beyond this building and the shore."

"Tuvok to Janeway."

"That didn't take long," Tom comments.

"Janeway here," she responds.

"Are you well, Captain?" he inquires.

"Yes, we're fine. Why don't you make sure Neelix is all right and check in with the ship and we'll see you when the meetings resume," she says.

"Understood," he replies. "Tuvok out."

"Do you think we can go outside?" Tom asks, his tone wistful.

"Do the doors open?" she asks. They do, but only to an enclosed porch with a low wall. There's no access to the shore without hopping over the barrier and Tom knows without asking that Janeway isn't going to go for that.

"Leave the doors open," she says. "The air is nice. It's too cold in here anyway."

"Yeah," Tom agrees. "I wonder what their normal temperature is. I think I saw Tuvok shiver."

She snorts. "Tuvok does not shiver."

"I dunno," Tom says, leaning out over the low wall, as if trying to will himself closer to the water. "Vulcan is a hot planet."

"What are we going to do for four hours?" she asks out loud, suddenly frustrated. "I didn't bring work with me and it's not like Voyager can beam some down."

"You could talk to me," he offers. "We could eat some of this food, sit on this couch and we could talk."

"All we do is talk," she says. "I'm not sure it helps."

"We haven't talked lately," he points out.

"No," she says. "No we haven't."

"I'm doing my best to respect your wishes," he offers. "And if you want to talk about work, that's fine too."

"Somehow, I'm coming off as the bad guy in this conversation," she says, holding up her hand to stop him.

"There's nothing bad about you," he says.

"That line work on many women?" she asks, rolling her eyes.

"Some," he shrugs, his impish smile returning. "Never the important ones."

"Is this a fruit tray?" she asks, pulling her tri-corder from her hip. The food is all safe to eat so she scans the rest of the room but finds little of interest. The panel by the door is the most technologically advanced piece of equipment around them and she suspects it will do little more than call for service.

"I think I'm going to try this brown melon-y thing," Tom says.

"It looks more like a papaya than a melon," she says, closing the tri-corder. "I'm thinking the purple pear-ish one."

"Purple always looks the best and tastes the worst," he warns. "I always get fooled by purple."

"I think my bravery will be rewarded," she says, picking up the fruit. It feels ripe enough in her hand -- the skin is firm but springy. She doesn't risk taking a bite but uses a knife to cut a sliver, glad to see that juice doesn't explode everywhere. She pops it into her mouth – chews and swallows.

"Well?" Tom asks, having watched closely this whole performance.

"It's sweet," she says.

"Sweet?" he asks.

"With undertones of rotten eggs," she admits. "Try the brown."

He is more courageous, biting straight from the source.

"Sour," he says finally. "But all right."

"I don't think I'm hungry enough to keep going," she says, sitting down on the sofa next to a large, beige pillow.

"Three hours and forty minutes to go," Tom says helpfully.

"You haven't asked me about my sickbay appointments lately," she says.

"Didn't want to intrude." He sits near her, but not next to her.

"The Doctor says I'm at 90%. Probably the best I'm going to be - or could hope for."

"Congratulations," he says.

"Don't you think I seem more like myself?" she presses.

"You seem intent on things getting back to normal, yes," he says.

"Now why do you put it like that?" she demands.

"Like what?"

"Like I can't see the forest for the trees," she says. "I'm doing what needs to be done."

"I didn't say you weren't," he defends.

"But you don't agree."

"I'm a Lieutenant and you're my captain. It truly doesn't matter what I think," he says.

"It matters to Kathryn what her friend Tom thinks," Janeway says.

"Does it?" Tom asks seriously. "Because I haven't seen my friend Kathryn in weeks."

She huffs. It isn't fair for him to point that out when they both clearly know the circumstances that they're living with. This fight is a huge circle and she's tired of running the track.

"And anyway," he says. "I thought a friendship with me was a luxury you couldn't have."

"Do you really think throwing my words back in my face is going to help?" she asks, letting her head fall back against the soft cushion. It occurs to her that they could use this time for its intended purpose - to rest. She wasn't tired but she is now.

"Remember our first mission together?" he asks. "Remember the Caretaker's array?"

"Yes," she says, defensively. She does remember it - good solid chunks of the memories are really hers and the rest are filled in with her own logs or reports of that day.

"You took me on the away mission with you. I thought I'd be spending my time confined to quarters if I wasn't flying, and that was the best case scenario, but you took me on the away mission," he says.

"Well, half the crew was dead," she says.

"So I was just another body?"

"No, I trusted you to watch my back," she says. "And I wanted you to prove yourself. And I think you wanted to prove yourself, too."

He doesn't to answer this, doesn't admit to anything.

"Sometimes, when we're having this same fight, or some other disagreement, sometimes I think about that first mission and how you trusted me even when I couldn't trust myself," he says, letting his head fall back in a mirrored position to her own.

She turns her head to look at him and it floods through her, the desire to touch him. She's been trying so hard to ignore it, but she can see her hand reaching out to him and it's like she has no control over it. She grasps his fingers in hers and he looks over at with surprise. But surprise has never detoured Tom Paris and so he threads his fingers through hers so they're holding hands properly.

"I wake up," she says. "And I know who I am."

He squeezes her fingers.

"I thought," she continues, swallowing hard. "When that happened, that this other feeling would go away."

"What other feeling?" he asks.

"This one," she says. "You."

The breeze through the open doors blows the hair from her face. He can see how red it is underneath where it moves away from her neck. His father used to say that the Janeways were of good, Irish stock, like that meant anything anymore. They were all Terrans, he'd thought at the time. What use was it to cling to arbitrary borders?

Tom tugs her hand until she slides to him on the couch.

"I'm going to kiss you," he says.

"I know," she whispers and she sounds terrified. But the Irish are brave and so, he suspects, are Indianans. She doesn't stop him or even close her eyes. He slides his hands up into that dark, red hair at her nape and puts his lips to hers. She kisses him back, allows his tongue to slide into her mouth, shifts her body so they aren't awkwardly bumping knees or knocking elbows. She breathes through her nose and presses back hard until Tom realizes he's got to be the one that stops them this time. He rests his forehead against hers and she moves her hands into her lap. Her eyes are closed and he can almost hear the wheels whirring in her head. Any moment she's going to start peddling back.

"If I lay down on this long couch and close my eyes for a while, will you join me?" he asks.

"Lay down?" she asks, a little breathlessly.

"Maybe our hosts know what they're talking about. Maybe we should do as they say and rest," he says. He makes the first move and stretches out. She haltingly complies, curling her body into his. It takes her a couple moments to find a place where her head is comfortable on his chest and he has to situation his arm, but soon they are reclined, looking out at the water. His hand is stroking her lower back and she can feel his heart beating beneath the palm of her hand.

And after awhile, he looks down and sees that her eyes are closed. Her breathing evens out and he feels her muscles go slack.

He wishes he could slow time. Already the hours of their break are trickling away.

oooo

On the Delta Flyer, Janeway stays in the back to start cataloging what they've collected with Neelix and Tuvok. Harry and Tom are alone.

"Harry," Tom says. "I want you to know that I really am sorry for what I said."

"Okay," Harry says.

"I was..thought I had lost something really important and I couldn't see my way out of it. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"No," Harry agrees.

"You're a better friend than I am and I'm lucky to have you, I know that."

"You are lucky," Harry says. "But you don't see it. You keep living your life like something is about to give and you're trying to outrun it. But look around you, look at what you've got and the people who love you."

"Have you ever been in love, Harry?" Tom asks.

"Sure," he says.

"I don't mean the wrong twin or the hologram or..."

"Libby," Harry says quietly.

"I fall in love all the time," Tom says. "I fall in love at the drop of a hat. I fell in love with 20 girls before I was sixteen, I was in love with B'Elanna, honestly, deeply in love."

"You can't keep beating yourself up about that," Harry says. "You need to just move on."

"That's what I'm trying to say," Tom says, swiveling back to look at Harry. "I'm in love again."

"Oh," Harry says. "_Oh_."

"Yeah," Tom says.

"With... you know who?"

"This time doesn't feel like any other time though," Tom admits.

"Is it pity love because of the brain damage?" Harry asks.

"No! It's... it feels like every other time before this was fake, was a big joke."

"Please don't say that the Captain is the one," Harry says.

"Harry, I think she's the one."

Harry rolls his eyes.

"I'm serious," Tom says.

"You thought B'Elanna was the one," Harry reminds her. "For a while you were thinking about proposing."

"I didn't though," Tom says.

"And you've been on this ship as long as the rest of us, why all of a sudden now?" Harry asks.

"It's not all of a sudden," he admits. "I mean, things have changed recently, but I've always... it's always been..."

"You've been pining for six years?" Harry asks, obviously thinking the idea dubious.

"You fell in love with a hologram!"

"Hey, this isn't about me," Harry says.

"Haven't you always wanted something but knew you couldn't have it?" Tom asks. "What if that thing suddenly became yours?"

Behind them, the doors hiss open and Tuvok enters.

"Status, Lieutenant?"

"We're approaching Voyager now," Tom says, turning around to focus on his task. He can see the ship just ahead and the shuttle bay doors start to part.

When Tom walks through the shuttle and steps out into the bay, Janeway is already gone.

oooo

Janeway thinks about bravery for a long time. She starts thinking about it when she flees the shuttle bay as if the place is on fire in order to avoid Tom. She wants to see him, but she needs time to gather her thoughts. To find a strategy and make a plan of action.

It's at the oddest moments that she misses Mark. She misses his companionship, his gentle and kind ways, the fact that he was outside of Starfleet and she never had to deal with fraternization policies, that their love never was complicated, insincere, or offensive to anyone. She misses him now because loving him was easy and not confusing. It was the right thing to do. But the way her heart beats in her chest when Tom is around her, she's never felt that with Mark. Mark was like putting on your favorite sweater, curling up with a good book and reading it by a lit fire. Being with Tom is like stealing a shuttle and taking it for a joyride.

She knows she shouldn't but it's all she wants to do.

But being rebellious is not totally out of character for Kathryn Janeway. She made a career for herself early on taking risks that others her age and rank would not take. That is why they sped her through the command track, gave her Voyager, and allowed her to take a convicted felon out of prison because she knew he could really fly.

There are over a million people in Starfleet, more who are affiliated, and Captains who are given their own ships can get the best of the best for space missions. Still, with all that talent, Captains tend to keep the same core crew over the length of their career. Owen Paris allowed her on his ship because he was friendly with her father, and part of the reason she thought of Tom at all when she'd been given her mission to find Chakotay, was because she'd been friendly with his. Now, she can't imagine her life without her officers.

When she has fantasies about reaching Earth, and she has them often, no matter which path she takes on her return, she brings her crew with her. Tuvok, Harry, Tom are always at her side. And yes, Chakotay as well but even in her fantasies, she knows that he will not follow. He has left Starfleet once and she suspects he will leave it again.

Janeway is en route to astrometrics. She has been endeavoring to spend more time with Seven of Nine. Seven isn't particularly social, though, so Janeway must always start in astrometrics and nudge Seven on to some other activity. When she arrives, Seven is at her post, working dutifully.

"Good afternoon, Seven," she says, standing next to her and patting her shoulder once, affectionately.

"Captain," she says.

"What are you working on?"

"I am integrating the data from the away mission into the cultural database," Seven says. Janeway knows that to Seven, this isn't work, but something she does because she enjoys it. Yes, it is work, but to Seven it is the relaxing kind.

"What do you say you take a break and come to the holodeck with me?" Janeway says. "It's been a while since we've played hoverball."

"I thought the Doctor advised you against taking unnecessary risk," Seven says, glancing at her before returning her gaze to the screen.

"Do you work for him or me?" Janeway asks, but Seven is right.

"Ensign Kim invited me to view the final game of the table tennis tournament in cargo bay 4," Seven relents. "We may attend that."

"Okay," Janeway says with a smile. It used to irritate her, the way Seven gave her permission to do things, but now she just finds it endearingly Seven.

When they get there, there's already a sizable crowd. Someone has set up bleachers for viewing and Harry's already waiting with his paddle in hand to show up.

"Who is he playing?" Janeway asks.

"Lieutenant Torres," says Seven. "She is late."

Upon hearing this, Janeway is certain that Tom won't attend. She feels both relieved and disappointed and chastises herself for both. They sit in the front row of the bleachers - no officer on the ship would sit in front of the Captain so Janeway doesn't even try to climb any higher than ground level. Seven looks as if she'd prefer to stand, but sits with her spine erect next to Janeway.

"Harry looks nervous," Janeway comments.

"Lieutenant Torres is a competent player," Seven says. "And Ensign Kim is often nervous in crowds."

"You think B'Elanna is going to win?" Janeway asks.

"Guessing serves no purpose," Seven says, but Janeway thinks she's just keeping her opinion to herself.

"Harry will surprise you if you give him a chance," Janeway says.

"If he does not let himself get surprised first," Seven says. Janeway grins. The door opens and every head turns, thinking B'Elanna has arrived, but instead it's another group of spectators - a group that includes Tom Paris. She's surprised because she knows things have been strained between him and Harry and things with B'Elanna have fallen apart completely, but here he is and she's proud of him for showing up. He looks at her and waits. She could turn away and he'd climb up the bleachers and find himself a seat, but she dips her head and he walks over to her.

"Captain," he says. "Seven."

"Have a seat, Lieutenant," she offers, and he does. He sits right next to her and waves to Harry who manages to look a little greener.

"Harry's nervous," Tom says.

"So it would seem," Janeway say. Finally, B'Elanna walks in, in that way that she has. Every head turns to look at her and she's holding her paddle like a weapon.

"Sorry I'm late," she says, but offers no explanation as to why. If she sees Tom in the stands, she has no reaction to it. "I have twenty minutes to kick your ass, so let's get started."

It doesn't take twenty minutes. Harry isn't a bad player, but he's better in pairs and B'Elanna's bravado throws him off his game. When she wins, she takes her paddle and walks right out the door, much the way that she came. Tom touches Janeway's forearm briefly and gets up to console his friend. Seven sees all of this and looks almost curious.

"I must return to astrometrics," she says, instead.

"All right," Janeway says. "I'll see you later."

Janeway walks over to where Tom is obviously giving Harry a little self-esteem pep talk.

"You played a good game, Ensign," she offers, patting his his shoulder. "What do you say we get some dinner and plan your triumphant come back?"

"That's okay, I should just get some sleep. I'm on the night shift in a few hours," Harry says. "Thanks anyway, Ma'am. See ya, Tom."

"You think he'll be okay?" she asks.

"He's fine," Tom says, watching Harry shake a few more hands of consolation on his way out of the cargo bay. "If you're hungry, I replicate a mean pork chop."

"You want to have dinner with me?" she asks. He nods.

"We could eat in my quarters, if you'd like," Tom offers, putting on an air of nonchalance. Janeway should say no, she should pat his shoulder with the same motherly affection that she gave to Harry and bid him a goodnight, but it just isn't what she wants. The same advice she receives again and again from the Doctor, from Neelix, from Tom himself is to take what she wants and stop apologizing for it.

"If you think your quarters are best," she says. "I'll meet you there in 30 minutes, how does that sound?"

Tom looks as if he wants to say something - he thinks she'll change her mind - but he just smiles.

"See you then," he says. "And Captain?"

"Yes?"

"My quarters have a strict rule of civilian clothes only," he says.

"I'll see what I can do," she says, not making any promises.

oooo

Janeway stands in her closet and thinks about canceling. It isn't that she doesn't want to eat dinner with him, it's that she hates all her clothes. After nearly six years of wearing the exact same things, her option of civilian clothes are stale as well as few and far between. She has the same few long dresses, white blouses, and black flats that she's been wearing for years. She looks over at the replicator - there's no law saying she can't get something new, but as the Captain, she knows it's not exactly the best use of resources. It isn't like she has any girlfriends, so there's no one to borrow anything from. Her closest female friend is Seven and even if Seven had something to borrow, it wouldn't fit on Janeway's small, straight frame. She sighs, and pulls out her coral colored dress. She doesn't particularly want to wear it, but of her options, it's the most feminine and least threadbare of the bunch.

But when she pulls it over her head, it's much more snug than she remembered it to be. Frustrated and with rapidly lowering self-esteem, she pulls it off and throws it to the floor of her closet. In her panties and bra, she marches over to the replicator, resources be damned.

When she finally arrives at Tom's quarters, she's four minutes late, but wearing a black dress. An entire closet and there wasn't one simple black dress. The dress scoops at her neck and back and flares out a little at the waist, stopping just below her knees. It's extremely simple, but timeless and a dress one can wear forever is hardly a drain on resources. Not a very big one, anyway.

Tom opens the door and grins at the sight of her.

"My, my," he says. "Come right in."

"Can it," she says, though is hard pressed not to smile. "I never realized how little I am out of my uniform."

"You hardly wore it while you were recuperating," Tom points out.

"I wore clothes that were barely a step up from pajamas," she says. "Those don't count."

"Well, it suits you," he says. Tom is wearing blue jeans and a brown sweater. The jeans make her laugh. They're hopelessly out of date, but he always argues that if people would just try them on, they'd see how comfortable they were. No one ever takes him up on the offer. "Ah, I was just going to replicate dinner if you're ready."

"Tom," she says. "I'm not actually that hungry."

"Me either," he says, relieved that she dropped the pretenses first. When he grabs her shoulders, she rises up on the balls of her feet and wraps her arms around his neck. They kiss feverishly, like they will be discovered at any moment and have to get it all in as quickly as possibly. His body is warm and hard against hers - the material of the dress is soft and light and she can feel every thing against her skin like she wasn't wearing anything. She can feel the bulk of the sweater, the hard knot of the button of his jeans, his hands as they travel up and down her back. His tongue is hot and insistent and she opens her mouth to allow him in.

Kissing him makes every nerve in her body wake up and start screaming for contact. She's kissed him before, but this time she is sober and wants it, really wants it. She feels the wall against her back - he has backed them up so they have something solid to support them. He's good at this; she hadn't realized they were moving. His lips move down her neck and she takes deep breaths, feeling her head spinning. When his hands move to her waist, she allows him to lift her so she's pinned between the wall and his body. There's a few seconds of awkwardness while they try to negotiate this. She realizes the only way this will work is if she wraps her legs around his hips and so she does. That's when she really feels him, hard against her. She forces his mouth back to her hers.

She's frightened. She wants to stay here, kissing him forever. It's been a long time and Janeway is not particularly adventurous when it comes to her bedroom life. What if she disappoints him, what if he expects the power of her rank to translate into every area of her life? What if this happens and everything falls apart?

"You're panicking," Tom says, pulling his mouth away. "Your whole body just froze."

"No," she says.

"We can stop," he says, letting her slide back down onto her own feet. Her knees feel wobbly and she leans into him.

"I don't want to stop," she says. "I just..."

"It's okay," he says. "I'm nervous too."

"For the record," she says. "This is a really bad idea."

"I know," he whispers.

"Usually, when I make bad decisions, at the time I think it's the right one," she says. "But I'm making this one knowing it's going to come back and bite me."

"We're both going to pay," he admits.

"So why are we doing this?" she asks, pressing her mouth to his neck. She can't help it.

"I know why I'm doing it," he says.

"Why?"

"Because you're all I think about. Because you look amazing in that dress. Because you believe in me. Because you're a good leader. Because," he shrugs. "I wake up in the morning, and I think about when I'm going to see you. If you'll look at me when I come on to the bridge, if you'll smile or look at me longer than you look at someone else."

"Tom," she groans. "If we ever get home, I'm going to get fired for this."

"When we get home," he corrects. "No one is going to care."

"They will," she says.

"Fuck them," he says, and her eyes widen slightly. "They weren't out here and they don't get to decide what is right and wrong for you and me."

"You're quite the romantic," she says.

"I really want to keep kissing you," he says.

"Permission granted."


	9. Chapter 9

This time, Janeway wakes up knowing exactly what happened. She is not alone in the narrow bed. Tom is pressed up against the wall and she's pressed up against him. She'd forgotten how easily her body curved into a man, but she fits against him like a puzzle piece. He's still asleep, his breathing even and his arm holds her against him firmly. It's early, still, she thinks. She needs to go on duty, but they have a little time, yet. And yes, a wave of guilt does come but it's not as strong as it might be. She feels happy and relieved and relaxed and has woken up for the first time in a long time without feeling afraid. Maybe being with the right person isn't about negotiating and compromise, maybe it's about waking up and feeling at home no matter where you are. She's loved her past fiancés, her boyfriends, her lovers but she's never felt like this.

Her mother had always told her that she'd know when she found the one and it had sounded so, so stupid to her at the time but now she's laying here thinking about the first time she'd seen Tom since his cadet days, in that prison, and how young his face had been. If she'd known then what she knew now, they could have saved so much time. Tom moves a little.

"You're thinking so hard it woke me up," he says, rubbing his stubbly chin on her bare shoulder.

"I feel happy," she says.

"Me too," he says. "Let's try to hold on to this feeling for as long as possible, hmm?"

"Want to hear how it's going to play out?" she asks, rolling over so they're facing each other. Her breasts press against his bare chest and his hand slides down to her butt.

"Tell me."

"Tuvok is going to figure it out first," she says. "He always does. You're going to slip and tell Harry."

"True."

"Harry is going to tell B'Elanna and I'm going to have to rush to tell Chakotay before she does," Janeway says. "He will be hurt and give me... oh, three days of silence and 'I-Told-You-So' faces."

"Then Neelix," Tom says. "Then everyone."

"That's what I think," Janeway says.

"How long?" he asks.

"Two weeks if we're really, really careful," she says, closing her eyes. She feels tired, again. He pulls her body up onto his and she buries her face into his neck. It's paradise, being this close to someone - feeling so much skin against hers. It's intoxicating to be touched. He lets his hand rest in the dip of her back and taps out a little rhythm there.

"Order everyone to mind their own business," he offers.

"Just like I order Neelix to lay off Tuvok? Or you to stop your damn gambling ring?" she asks. "Some orders don't mean a thing."

"It's not my gambling ring, it's Voyager's gambling ring," Tom says. "It's a self-sustaining entity now that I have very little to do with."

"Regardless," she snaps.

"Don't worry about it yet," he suggests, nuzzling into her. "There's nothing you can do in the next thirty minutes, so just stay here."

They only get one first morning after so she decides to take his advice, for now, and just be with him.

"Do you think less of me?" she whispers. She can almost hear him roll his eyes.

"Now you're just worrying about something different," he chastises.

"I'm being serious," she says.

"No," he answers, seriously. "If anything, I like you more everyday."

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in. Tom smells of sweat - a little salty -- but masculine and familiar.

"Okay," she says.

oooo

B'Elanna comes into her ready room in the early afternoon. There's some business she needs to go over, personnel issues and warp core modifications, but when all that is done, B'Elanna doesn't get out of her chair.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, looking down into her cup of tea. Janeway is surprised - she and B'Elanna don't often chat. She's endured the meeting because it is necessary, but she doesn't know if she can chit chat with B'Elanna knowing how she spent the night with Tom.

"Fine," Janeway says, picking up the tea pot and topping off her own tea. "I'm just... doing just fine, thank you."

"No more headaches?" she asks. Janeway raises an eyebrow.

"Funny," she says. "I don't remember you asking after my health before."

"You're my captain," B'Elanna says. "I have a vested interest in your well-being."

Janeway isn't buying it this time and her expression says as much.

"Fine," B'Elanna says. "The truth is, Tom and I break up all the time and every time it's messy and we say things we can't take back and I hate him and he hates me and that's that. But, inevitably, we come around and start all over again."

"Oh," Janeway says. Her heart has started to flutter uncomfortably.

"I know he's been spending a lot of time with you and I wanted to make sure he was doing all right," she says, but then holds up her hand. "I mean, I want him to be miserable, but on the way to crawling back." B'Elanna shrugs with a small smile. "Only a conniving little weasel like Tom could get the Captain as his new best friend."

"Lieutenant, I really don't think I'm the person... you should really talk to Tom about this," she says.

B'Elanna's face falls slowly. It's unfortunate that she's such a smart woman, because she's equally as hostile. For a moment, Janeway is afraid of what B'Elanna might do. What she is capable of. It's Janeway's ship and she could send B'Elanna to the brig or have security escort her away, but what about the few minutes before they arrived? What would the full wrath of B'Elanna Torres really feel like?

"Is he seeing someone else?" she asks.

"I'm usually the last person to know gossip, Lieutenant," Janeway says and in this way she is dodging the question without lying. B'Elanna sets her cup down on the coffee table with a little too much force and it rattles loudly on the saucer.

"I'll talk to him," she says. "I'll talk to him, all right." It is a threat and B'Elanna rises and storms out of the ready room, so mired in her anger that she forgets who she is with.

"Dismissed," Janeway says uneasily after her. The kind thing would be to warn Tom but there's no easy way to do so. She has to hope that after years of dealing with B'Elanna, Tom can take care of himself.

oooo

Tom is quiet when she sees him next. He comes to her quarters in full uniform holding a PADD, but she's pretty sure it's blank. She never actually looks at it. He doesn't offer up any information about his day. She's got work to do, and he says that it's fine. She sits at her desk with her monitor open and Tom sits in the chair that reclines with his arms behind his head. He isn't sleeping or reading, he's just sitting there.

"What are you doing?" she asks, finally.

"Relaxing," he says. But it seems more like he's thinking.

"Are you hungry?" she asks, waving her hand toward the replicator in an invitation.

"I ate," he says.

She goes back to her work, but he's just sitting there, staring, and it's beginning to seriously distract her.

"Tom."

"Hmm?"

She gets up and walks over to him, perches on the very edge of the chair. He touches her thigh and looks up at her.

"Did you talk to B'Elanna today?" she asks. No reason to hide from the problem if it was just going to put a great big kink in everything.

"I did."

"Well?" she demands. She's beginning to get exasperated. Usually, Tom chats to her continuously - about his day, about his past, about what he likes about her. Now, it's one word answers and she can't read his face at all.

"I saw her in the mess," he says. "She asked how I was doing."

"What'd you say?" she asks.

"I'm doing fine," Tom says. "She said she was too."

"That's it?" Janeway asks.

"She said if I ever wanted to apologize to her, we could get some coffee," he says. "I told her that I was sorry, but we were probably past coffee doing any good."

"And then she broke your nose?" Janeway asks, attempting a joke but unable to quite shake her serious tone. He smiles for a moment.

"No," he says. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I flinched at the look in her eyes, but then she just said 'fine' and left."

"Huh," Janeway says and makes to stand, but his fingers curl around her wrist and he pulls her back down.

"Why?"

"Well, we had a meeting today, and she asked after you," Janeway shrugged, like it was no big deal.

"What did you say?"

"I didn't want to get involved! That she should talk to you!"

"She is ruthless," Tom says, a warning. "If she thinks you know something, she'll be on you like white on rice until she knows what it is."

"She may have asked if you were seeing someone else," Janeway says. "But I side-stepped it and she left and it was fine."

"You should've just told her the truth," Tom says. "Now, when she finds out that I am and it's you, she's going to be doubly pissed off."

"Tom, how did you stay with her for so long?" she blurts.

"It wasn't always bad," he says. "She's smart and can be funny. She was... the girl you date before you settle down, you know?" Janeway shakes her head. She doesn't know. "Kind of wild and exhilarating, but at the same time dangerous and exhausting. The girl who will go on all your crazy adventures with you but can never agree on what color to paint the bedroom and hates your taste in music. And you get all caught up in whatever it is that you have for so long that you forget that you can't actually live day to day with them."

He rubs his hands over his face.

"And then you suddenly meet someone who reads the same books as you and likes orange, too and it's like, what the hell was I doing for so long?"

"I see," she says. "You know that I hate orange, right?"

"Do you like blue?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll be okay," he promises.

"I can't worry about what she thinks of me," Janeway says. "And I can't afford to lose my chief engineer if she decides she can't take orders from me."

"She loves her job more than she hates me, I think," Tom says. This is not exactly comforting. "I think I'll let you work. I could use some sleep."

"Okay," Janeway says.

"I'll see you on the bridge?"

"Stay here," she says. "It... that wasn't an order, but you could stay here to sleep."

"Are you sure I won't disturb your work?" he asks.

"In two weeks I'm probably going to be sick of you so you may as well bask in my affection while you have it," she says. He raises his eyebrow.

"That was a joke, right?" he asks.

"Do I joke a lot?"

"I thought you did..." he says, uncertainly.

"Relax," she says. "I'll be in in a few hours and I'll try not to wake you up."

"Okay," he says. She goes back to her work, narrowing her focus. She really needs to be caught up and this was always the way that she got ahead of her peers. She was the queen of all nighters. In fact, she can go days without proper sleep and still retain her faculties, but she tries not to do it for no real reason.

"Kathryn?"

"Hmm..." she says. She looks up to see Tom standing in the doorway in nothing but his boxer shorts.

"Why don't you come to bed?" he asks.

"I'm almost done," she murmurs.

"It's 0300," he says. "Come get some sleep."

"Is it?" she asks. She is tired - her eyes feel rough and bleary. "Okay." She shuts the monitor down and stands up, her back aching. He waits for her and when she walks up to him, he helps pull her jacket off and tosses on the chair across form her bed on top of his own uniform. She shrugs out of the turtleneck before disappearing into the bathroom. When she comes back, she's dressed in a tank top and pajama pants and he holds up the blanket so she can slide in. He lets his hand rest on her hip bone with the tips of his fingers just under the elastic waist of her pants. It takes her a few long moments to realize his hand is moving, his fingers inching down. She doesn't move, doesn't breath until they encounter the top of her underwear. She can move, pull his hand away and go to sleep, but instead she lets her knees fall apart. She feels his lips on her ear.

"Kathryn," he says. Her name is little more than hot breath on her skin but it's all she needs to come apart. She bites her lips. She can just see his eyes in the darkness and they are so dilated they are black with only the smallest ring of blue. Her hips buck when his fingers worm into her underpants and slide against her. She wants to kiss him, but more than that, she wants to watch him watch her. She rotates her hips up off the mattress hoping he'll get the hint. She wants more than contact, she wants penetration. He teases her some, grazing against her most sensitive areas before easing one finger inside of her, and then two. She can't quite breathe - she can't only inhale so much before her breath hitches in the back of her throat. Her clothes feel very constricting and he seems to realize this because he helps ease down the pants with his free hand. She shoves them off her body and then twists out of the shirt so she's laid bare before him.

"Beautiful," he whispers, before lowering his mouth to her peaked breast. She tries to pull his shoulders so he'll roll over on top of her but he doesn't budge. "Let me do this," he says. Between her legs, his hand starts to move more quickly, stroking in and out of her. The pleasure starts to coil and pulsate. His mouth moves to her other breast and then down. He flicks his tongue into her belly button and his chin brushes against her patch of hair. They haven't done this before and she grabs his head with both her hands, holding him in place. She doesn't try to force him back up or down, just stills him. His fingers are still moving, keeping her frenzied level of pleasure at the status quo but they both know it isn't enough to push her over.

"Hey," he says, kissing the skin he can reach. "It's okay."

"I don't know," she says.

"Trust me," he says. She does trust him, so she loosens her grip and he continues down, nudging her knees apart to make room for his shoulders. She can't breath, can't stand the few seconds before contact is made. Her hips wriggle, but he lays a forearm across them to keep her still before lapping at her with his strong, hot tongue.

The sound she makes is probably embarrassingly loud and deep, but she's beyond caring. What he's doing is impossibly good and it doesn't take long before she's keening and bucking, one hand clenching the sheets and the other trying to force his head away. The sensations are too great, too much, and when he stops, her body hits the bed like dead weight.

"Good?" he asks, when she opens her eyes.

"Good," she confirms. "Come here."

"You're tired," he says. "Go to sleep, it's okay."

"I'm not that tired," she assures him. His boxers are tented to the point where it's got to hurt, so the first step she takes is to remove them and wrap her hand around his penis. He groans and she wants to laugh at the thought that he could've rolled over and just gone to sleep. He would have been in misery for hours. It was sweet that he was willing to do it for her, she thinks as she lowers her head and parts her lips. He makes a strangled noise that sounds almost like pain. It another situation, maybe.

"I can't," he says, his fingers digging into her hair. "I won't last."

His erection leaves her mouth with an audible pop and she looks up at him with big, dark eyes.

"What do you want?" she asks. He guides her up to him and she throws her leg over him so there's a knee on either side of his body.

"Now sit," he says. She's careful, she guides him into her with her hand. She sinks slowly - this angle has always been a little awkward for her. She's small and has narrow hips, but she's so well-lubricated that there's no twinge of dryness or pain. She slides easily down and has to take a moment while she adjusts to the feeling of being so full. Tom's eyes roll into the back of his head, and if she had to guess, she'd say he is reciting statistics of some sort in his mind. Once she feels ready, she grabs his hands and places them on her breasts and then begins to move. She could go slow, but it's already morning, practically, and so she rides him hard and fast. The only noise in the room is their heavy breathing and the sound of their bodies slapping together. She leans forward a little bit and yes, she finds it, that spot that would make her fly the ship into a burning star if this feeling could just last forever. He thrusts his hips up into her and instead of watching her, his glassy stare is focused on the point where their bodies are connecting. His cheeks are rosy and his forehead is wet with sweat. She knows that she's bright red too, the color starting at the tips of her breasts and crawling up her neck and high into her cheeks.

"Kath..." he manages, the only warning she receives before he comes, the muscles in his neck tensing and his hands squeezing hard on her thighs. She clenches her internal muscles, milking him until his body goes slack and his eyes slip closed. She folds over so she can lay on his chest and his arms come around her, holding her tightly.

"Now," she says. "Now we can sleep."

Her body shakes as he laughs.

"Aye, aye," he says.

oooo

Tuvok comes in and stands in front of her desk until she looks up and sighs.

"You know about Lieutenant Paris," she states.

"Yes," he says.

"I'm disappointed in you, Tuvok," she says, leaning back. "I gave you two weeks. It's been four." Tuvok doesn't say anything to this. "How did you figure it out?"

"Yesterday," Tuvok says. "When the console between the command chairs exploded."

Voyager was currently licking her wounds in a class one nebula. They'd unintentionally crossed some borders and angered the local occupants and had been fired upon. It wouldn't take long to get out of the space and outrun their pursuers, but there were repairs to be made before that happened. When they'd been shot at, it had blown several relays. She'd gotten some minor burns. Tom had insisted on healing her wound right there on the bridge.

"He saved me a trip to sickbay," Janeway says.

"It was peculiar," Tuvok says. "So I did some investigating."

"I'm well aware of which rules I'm breaking," she says.

"I did not come to lecture you," he says. "You are not the first superior officer to start a relationship with a junior officer. But, since neither of you can request a departmental or ship transfer, there is protocol about altering the command structure so you cannot make biased command decisions in regards to Lieutenant Paris."

"Those protocols are not intended for the captain," she says. "I outrank everyone."

He hands her a PADD and she scans it quickly.

"You want you and Chakotay to sign off on every order regarding Tom," she says, setting the PADD down. The hairs on the back of her neck are beginning to stand up. She doesn't like this.

"Yes."

"Every away mission, every course correction, every shift change?" she asks. He doesn't respond. "You don't think that'd raise some suspicions?"

"The very fact that you think people will be suspicious only reinforces that we need to take precautions," he says.

"I will take this under advisement. Until then, commander, I'd appreciate you keeping your discovery to yourself. Dismissed."

Tuvok leaves, because she has told him to, but she knows he thinks she is wrong. But implementing his plan, no matter how practical it may seem in a ship's log, is like admitting that there is something wrong with what they are doing. But it doesn't feel wrong and she doesn't want to taint it in this way. She will continue to be careful. She doesn't show him anymore favoritism than she always has, doesn't excuse him from sickbay shifts or allow his work to come in late or incomplete. He is her pilot and she treats him as such until they are alone in her quarters.

Hours later Tom comes in and perches on the edge of the desk.

"You've been reclusive," he says.

"Tuvok knows," she says. "That makes four."

The Doctor knows too. He knew the moment Janeway had walked into sickbay on time to receiving her monthly booster shot that would prevent pregnancy. While a baby was unlikely to happen, she didn't want to take the chance. She'd been pretty notoriously bad about keeping those shots on schedule and he'd pointed out her error as he'd give in to her.

"It doesn't matter if they're on time or not when you don't really need them," he'd said. He'd been right.

"Tuvok's lagging a little, huh?" Tom asks.

"You aren't concerned?"

"Why should I be. We both knew this would happen," he shrugs.

"It's only a matter of time until the whole ship knows."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but that news hurts your reputation far more than mine," he says. "My cred can only rise."

"I feel so much better, thanks," she says sarcastically. He can only be so apologetic. He honestly feels there is nothing wrong with people knowing.

"Are you happy?" he asks. "Are you healthy?"

"Tom..."

"Then don't apologize," he says. "Absolutely do not apologize for living your life. For being a woman."

"Okay, okay, that's about as much pep talk as I can take from you today," she says. "Go away and let me work."

"Will you be home for dinner?" he asks. She looks up at his face. He has been putting in a lot of effort to make sure she eats good meals and gets enough sleep.

"I'll try," she says, honestly.

Tom has somehow coaxed her replicator back from the edge. When he programs things, they come out perfectly. She could order plain water and that glorified toaster would give it to her in a dirty glass. But just as dinner rolls around, she finds herself with Chakotay on deck nine inspecting the work the repair crew has done, and then doing the same on four other decks and by the time she pulls herself away, it's late and the computer informs her that Tom is in his quarters. Instead of going home and collapsing into her bed like she wants to, she goes to his and presses the chime.

"Sorry," she says when he calls for her to come in. He's watching some old program on his television, sitting in his ratty bathrobe. On the table in front of him is a half empty bowl of popcorn. He looks up from the screen. She has her hands on her hips and is waiting for him to acknowledge her apology.

"It's all right," he says. "Come watch with me."

"Are you upset?" she asks, sitting next to him.

"If I got upset every time you were too busy to make it to dinner, I'd be in for a lifetime of heartache, babe," he says. "I understand."

Satisfied, she grabs the bowl and lets her head fall on his shoulder. On the screen, a man riding a horse shoots at someone. Tom raises his arm and drapes it over her shoulder.

"You okay about Tuvok?" he asks.

"I suppose," she says. "It could be worse. What if my memory never came back? What if that shot to the head had killed me?"

"Perspective," he say, with a solemn nod.

"I'm being serious," she says.

"Kathryn, you seem hell bent on living your life in this state of perpetual crisis," Tom says, turning the television off with the remote. He tosses it down to the other end of the couch.

"That's not true," she says, shrugging out from beneath his arm.

"Just live in the moment," he offers.

"I respect the Tom Paris philosophy, but am not yet ready to subscribe," she says. She pats his thigh with her open hand. "I'm going to bed."

"I'll find you something to sleep in," he says. "Though, you could always start keeping a nightgown here. Or better yet, sleep in nothing at all."

"We usually stay in my quarters," she says, ignoring his comment on nudity.

"Do you want to go there now?" he asks.

"No," she says. She stands up, and before she can walk away, he holds on to her hand.

"I know you think I'm being flippant, but I honestly think no one is going to care," he says.

"B'Elanna will care," she says. "Chakotay will care."

He lets her hand go. Perhaps it was a cruel thing to say, but it is the truth. She walks into the bedroom. He sees the light come on, hears the sound of her removing her uniform and the water falling into the sink. She brushes her teeth and then, he has to strain to hear it, but the whisper of the covers as she slips into his bed.

In a way, they're both right. The majority of the crew isn't going to care one way or another whose bed she's sleeping in at night. Having the Captain do something that makes her appear human will only make the crew feel better - it isn't right to be alone for so long; it isn't human. The crew loves Captain Janeway, the crew understands what she has given up in order to get them home, and they want her to be happy.

On the other hand, B'Elanna is going to go nuclear when she finds out. He thinks about how he would feel if he heard B'Elanna was sleeping with somebody new, and then multiplies that be being Klingon. Factor in that someone being the highest ranked person on the ship - yeah, just the thought makes Tom's stomach feel upset and the back of his throat taste metallic. He doesn't want her back - he broke up with her after all, but they've shared a lot and moving on is always, always painful. Tom doesn't know about Chakotay or how he feels about the Captain. Janeway doesn't talk about her XO much and seems reluctant to share that part of her past with him. But he does see the way Chakotay watches her move across the bridge and yes, when the news goes public, there will be some hurt feelings.

Is making life miserable aboard the ship for a few months worth all of it?

Tom walks over to the doorway and stands in the partial darkness. He can tell she isn't asleep, but she's trying. Her hair is tangled across his pillow and she's laying on the side of the bed he favors. Her foot is poking out from beneath the blanket and hanging of the edge of the mattress. There's no way to get into the bed without disturbing her. He grabs some clothes from the closet and puts them on in the other room. He's going to let her sleep.

He leaves his quarters, the woman sleeping there who has become his partner, and heads determinedly down the hall.

oooo

B'Elanna doesn't have an office so much as a corner of Engineering that her staff knows to stay out of. B'Elanna keeps odd hours, working early and often late into the night. She likes to nap in the afternoons, and so Tom knows better than to search her out in her quarters. And Tom is right, B'Elanna is in her nook, staring with squinting eyes at a screen. This means she's tired. Tom has fallen out of love with B'Elanna but that doesn't mean he doesn't know her anymore.

"It's late," he says.

"I'm working," she says, after a long pause. She's telling him to go away and giving him one chance to just do it so she doesn't have to yell.

"I was hoping to talk to you," he says, knowing the consequences. She hasn't even heard what he's had to say yet. She rubs at her forehead tiredly before straightening up.

"I could use a cup of coffee, I guess," she says and then blushes as she realizes what she has said. Tom has already turned her down for a coffee date once.

"Coffee sounds good," he says, saving her the embarrassment. The mess hall this time of night is deserted. Tom replicates two cups and they sit across from one another in the dim light. She looks tired, but over all, looks fine, too.

"Haven't seen much of you in a while," she says.

"I thought maybe... space could be good," he says. "Listen, B'Elanna..."

"I can't," she says. "It's sweet, Tom, but I think too much time has passed and I've realized some things about myself and I just can't get back together with you right now. I'm sorry." She gives him a pitying look and then hides behind her coffee cup.

"Oh," he says. "Well, I agree."

"You do?" she asks.

"I didn't come here to... B'Elanna, I don't want to get back together."

She furrows her brow and crosses her arms as she leans back hard in her chair.

"Why the hell not?" she demands.

"I wanted to tell you in person so you didn't hear it through whatever filter the gossip mill is running these days... I'm seeing someone else now. I thought I should tell you first," he says.

"I knew it!" she says, immediately seething. "I smelled something fishy and Janeway brushed me off like... first of all, you pig. Secondly, it's not telling me first if the Captain knows before I do," she says. She is hurt and is covering this by anger.

"You're still important to me," he says. "I still love you, we just can't be together."

"Oh save me the lecture," she says. "You can screw whomever you want, Tom Paris, it doesn't matter to me."

"Okay," he says. "Maybe you should start dating again, too."

"We're done here," she says, standing up. He lets her go, but she pauses at the door just before the sensors. "Who is it?"

"I thought it didn't matter," he says. He thought he might get away without this part. He was silly to even hope.

"There's a difference between you sleep around with some crewman we're not even friends with or someone that matters."

"Everyone on Voyager matters," he says. She turns her face away.

"Please tell me it's Jenny Delaney. Tell me it's Seven of Nine, tell me it's Sam Wildman, I don't care, tell me it's Harry Kim!" she begs.

"B'Elanna..."

"I asked her to her face if she knew who you were dating and she told me she didn't get involved with gossip. What a bold lie," B'Elanna says. "You've loved her for a long time."

"I loved you," he says. "When I was with you, I loved you."

"But you were in love with her," B'Elanna accuses. "I guess you finally got what you wanted."

"She's your boss," Tom says. "She's the captain. You can't be mad at her for this."

"I know how to act on the job," she says. "But I don't have to like her and I do not like you."

She leaves him alone in the dark. He rubs his face with his hands. She's mad, so mad that she didn't stay to yell, but Tom knows that this is better, that by doing this, he has avoided some large scene that draws everyone in and forces people to choose sides, more than they already have. He feels tired all of a sudden and makes his way home. Inside, his quarters are quiet. Janeway is sleeping heavily in his bed, one of his t-shirts bunched up around her waist. She has kicked the covers off in her sleep. He takes his pants and shirt off and drop them right to the floor where he stands. Suddenly, Tuvok's investigation, Chakotay's bruised feelings, or B'Elanna's ire mean very little. This woman in his bed is beautiful, whole, and willing. He thinks about what B'Elanna said as he slides in next to her. He wakes her, but she's groggy. She rolls into him, seeking his solid body. She is warm and her legs are smooth and he kisses her forehead.

"Where'd you go?" she asks, her voice raspy and her eyes never opening.

"Nowhere," he says, petting her back and pulling the blanket back over them both. "Go back to sleep."

"Mmmkay," she mumbles. He waits until she's fully back under again.

"Kathryn," he whispers, so quietly she won't wake up - but maybe she will hear it with some deeper consciousness and remember it when she needs it. "I have loved you for a long time," he says. "Maybe I have always loved you."

She sighs in her sleep, melting into him a little further.


	10. Chapter 10

They go like dominoes. Chakotay, Harry, and then the officers who don't work on the bridge, and then on down through the cracks until the ship is abuzz with the news. The Captain and Tom Paris, yes, really, it's the truth, it's the truth. No one says anything to Janeway but she can feel herself being watched by a hundred and forty very careful sets of eyes. She has never seen a Vulcan look so smug before. Tom lets it roll off him like so much water off his back, but she can't just ignore it like he can. She finds herself making sure every move she makes follows protocol to the letter. She lets Chakotay head up every away mission and any orders to Tom are given by someone else.

"Lieutenant Paris, warp six," Tuvok says.

"Slow to impulse," Chakotay orders, later. Tom follows him but shoots her a knowing look. She pretends not to see him, pretends she didn't just murmur those same words into her XO's ear.

It's all fine - it is how it is and Tom doesn't complain, but he draws the line at food for some reason.

"If I want to eat a meal with you, I'm going to. We consume food and that isn't news," he says. "We're having lunch in the mess hall. Today."

He isn't going to let her beg off or pull rank this time. She doesn't want to be a show. She doesn't like eating food very much anyway, she can only imagine how she'll feel about it with everyone watching her. But Tom rarely raises his voice or makes demands and so she nods.

"Fine," she says, but there's a hit of passive aggression in her voice. It tells him she thinks he'll see what she means, that he'll hate it too. But she forgets how it was when he first came aboard. Tom Paris was not always popular and charming.

Lunch is always busy. It falls during the first shift change, so in waves comes the people going on shift and then, those coming off. Janeway comes from the bridge, but Tom is just getting off a sickbay shift and has half an hour before he's due at the helm. He gets there first, and for that she is thankful. He's already got two trays at one of the small tables in the corner. It's thoughtful and she walks across the room toward him. The general conversation noise lowers but doesn't stop. She keeps her eyes ahead of her and sits down without comment.

"Hi," he says, with a grin. "Hope you like brown mush."

"Lieutenant Paris," she says, picking up her fork.

"Oh I see," he says. "If that's how you want to play it."

"I'm not playing it any one way," she says.

"I saw you naked in the shower this morning," he reminds her.

"Quit it," she snaps. "I'm working on this, this is hard for me, have some compassion."

"Fine, fine, sorry," he says. "But look around, Kathryn. No one is watching us." She glances out and it does seem like everyone is focused on their food or dining companions. She feels herself relax slightly.

"You're right," she admits.

"Except for Harry," Tom says. "He's pretty unabashedly staring right now. He thinks I've cast some kind of voodoo spell on you, I think. Or drugged you? I'm not sure. He physically can't talk about it yet. He just stutters and flees."

She looks up at Harry and he looks down into his tray and won't look back up to meet her eyes.

"Why?" she asks.

"You're Kathryn Janeway," he says, holding his hand high. "I'm Tom Paris." His other hand stays low. "I shouldn't have been able to achieve your height."

"That is ridiculous," she says. "Harry is your best friend. He should know better than to think so little of you."

"He doesn't think little of me, he just thinks really highly of you," Tom corrects. "Think about your first deep space assignment, how highly you regarded your captain."

"It was your father," she says.

"And you still think of him fondly, despite knowing about his many flaws," he points out. "You could knowingly and willingly send Harry to his death and he'd go down saluting you the entire way."

"Get him over here," she says. "We need to show him that I'm just a person."

"I don't think so," Tom says. "Harry'll come around, he just needs some time."

"He's not the green ensign that came aboard this ship anymore," she says.

"But he's still Harry Kim," Tom says. "Besides, I like that he thinks I've achieved the unachievable."

Under the table, his boot nudges hers affectionately.

Neither know it now, but this is the beginning of their first fight as an established, outed couple.

oooo

"Because it's weird," Harry says.

"But I always tell you about my woman troubles," Tom says. "You love to hear the gory details."

"That was then," Harry says. "I can't look the Captain in the eye if you've described to me in great detail what her face looks like when she..." He pales. "It's weird."

"I told you about B'Elanna, and she's one of your best friends. That wasn't weird?"

"That was _different_," he says. "Please try to understand. Captain Janeway is like... she takes _care_ of us, Tom."

"Are you trying to say she's like a mother?"

Harry just shrugs.

"Well she's not like MY mother," he says.

"I don't want to hear about you having sex with my mom," Harry says. "That's what this all comes down to."

"But B'Elanna is like a sister to you," Tom says. Harry pulls a face.

"No she isn't," Harry says. "B'Elanna is a beautiful woman."

"You stay away from her," Tom orders, as the turbolift doors open to reveal the bridge.

"Oh no," Harry says. "You don't get to have a say anymore." Harry slips behind his post and Tom has to keep walking to relieve the ensign at his station. Tuvok has command - neither the Captain or Chakotay is present. Chakotay is usually working furiously on duty rosters this time of month, so Tom can only imagine he's in his office pulling his hair out, but as for Kathryn, Tom isn't exactly sure. There's a good chance she's in her ready room, but he can't be sure because he hasn't spoken to her yet today.

He hasn't spoken to her, because she had opted to spend the night alone in her quarters. He hadn't pushed for an explanation, but it had felt, a little, like she was throwing him out. She'd been quiet after lunch and hadn't shared dinner with him. He'd been with her only an hour or so that night before she'd yawned theatrically and had pretty much told him to get out so she could get some sleep. Now, when she knew the shift change was occurring, she was nowhere to be found.

He had plenty of work to do but over an hour later, she still hadn't shown up. He non-verbally instructed the computer interface on his terminal to show him her location. His search would show up in the logs, but only if someone was really looking and it wasn't against any regulation to be curious. She was in her ready room, locked away doing who knows what. It was the end of the month, so maybe she was busy but with what, he couldn't be sure.

He saw her twice before his shift was done. Once, she left her ready room and walked across the bridge to the conference room without saying a word. Later, she left the conference room and walked into the turbo lift and then, was gone.

After his shift, he decided that if she wanted to see him, she'd come over or contact him. He went to the mess hall with Harry who refused to pick up their conversation where they'd left it. Instead, he talked about work.

By the time it was getting close to the time they usually went to bed, he'd heard nothing from her. Maybe he should leave her be but he isn't patient and knows he will be up all night worrying if he doesn't attempt to get an explanation. When he attempts to open a comm line, the computer informs him that she has a do not disturb placed upon her. This makes his heart fall into his stomach, and he all but runs to her quarters.

It takes her a while to call for him to enter. She has to know he's there on the other side of the door.

"Good evening, Tom," she says. It's so formal. It takes a moment, but suddenly, it all clicks into place. He didn't see it at first because with B'Elanna it was all yelling, throwing things, and bold threats, but he can see it now - Kathryn is pissed at him.

"Captain," he says.

She rolls her eyes.

"I can't help but notice you avoiding me," he says.

"We spend nearly ever night together. I have a lot of work to do."

Neither of these are explanations - they're just statements of fact.

"I'm happy to give you space if that's what you want, but I'd like to know what I did to upset you."

"I'm not upset," she says. "I'm busy."

"Kathryn," he starts but she cuts him off.

"Lieutenant, please see me as your Captain right now. You are dismissed," she says. What can he do? He knows he must look hurt because there's a moment there when she flinches like she might apologize - her eyes go just a little bit soft, but he just nods.

"Aye, aye," he says and manages, somehow, to make it into the hall without bumping into anything. He'll give her all the space she needs, he'll drown her in damn space if that's what she wants. He thought Janeway, an expert in diplomacy, would be better at and more willing to communicate but she's thrown up a wall so high he can't even see over it at the moment.

It isn't until the next day when Chakotay comes into sickbay with a bruise the size of a small moon on his back that Paris realizes that he needs to talk to someone who knows Kathryn as well as he does and that person is standing right in front of him.

"What happened?" Tom asks as Chakotay shrugs tenderly out of his jacket.

"I was boxing on the holodeck last night," he admits.

"I should see the other guy," Tom jokes. Being nice can't hurt.

"Where's the Doc?"

"Expanding his cultural horizons," Paris says, making quotations in the air with his fingers.

"What does that mean?" Chakotay asks.

"Honestly, I didn't ask," Tom says. He helps him take of the turtle neck and hisses when he sees the bruise on Chakotay's olive skin. He can even see the muscle spasm just beneath the skin. "You spent the night like this?"

"It didn't hurt as bad last night," Chakotay admits. "I could barely get out of bed this morning."

Tom helps him onto the bio bed and then administers a muscle relaxant. Chakotay sighs and Tom starts running the regenerator over the bruise, watching it yellow.

"Can I ask you something?" Tom asks.

"Sure," Chakotay says.

"The Captain..."

"Wait," Chakotay says, trying to sit up, but Tom pushes his shoulder so he holds still. "If it's about a professional issue, I'm all ears. But I don't want anything to do with... anything personal."

"Okay, I get that," Tom says. "But here's the thing."

"Paris!"

"It's just that you know her so well! Harry won't talk to me about it, B'Elanna looks likes she's going to strangle me if we're even in the same room, and I don't have a lot of friends. Who am I supposed to go to for advice?"

"Anyone else."

"Chakotay, I need help," Tom admits.

"Fine," Chakotay relents, though Tom can practically hear Chakotay's teeth grinding.

"She's mad at me and I don't know why or what I did," Tom says. "She won't talk to me, she just dismisses me."

"Ouch," Chakotay says.

"She gets to flip the Captain/Friend switch whenever she wants and I have no idea when that's going to happen," Tom sighs. He pats Chakotay's shoulder and Chakotay sits up and pulls his shirt back on.

"You probably said something to offend her," Chakotay says.

"Why didn't she say something at the time?" he demands.

"Kathryn..." Chakotay shrugs. "You'll say something off the cuff that at the time sounds totally reasonable and then three days later she marches in all piss and vinegar because she's been silently obsessing over it. It's just how she is and I think the only way to avoid it is to keep your mouth shut."

"That's totally unreasonable," Tom says.

Chakotay just grins.

"Okay, well clearly the damage has been done," Tom says. "What do I do now?"

"In a perfect world, she'll dump you," Chakotay says, zipping up his jacket. "And come seeking comfort from her closest friend." Chakotay claps him on the shoulder. "Thanks, Tom. I feel a lot better."

Tom watches him leave sickbay with a scowl.

He barges into her quarters practically uninvited. She'd answered the door and he'd barreled past her and now they're standing in her living room and she looks less than pleased.

"Captain," he says. "Kathryn, I want to say that I really don't think that you're better than me."

She takes a few moments to stare at him.

"Okay," she says finally.

"I realize now that saying that you're on some high, unachievable plane of existence was totally unfair to you. You're not some goddess on a pedestal, you're flesh and blood like the rest of us and Harry is stupid for thinking differently and I'm stupid for letting him and I'm sorry." Tom watches her carefully and sees her eyes flicker to just past his shoulder. His stomach sinks and he looks behind him. "Hey Commander," he says warily.

"Lieutenant," Chakotay says.

"Didn't see you there in that dark corner."

"So it would appear," Chakotay says, unable to hide his smile.

"I see that you're busy," Tom says, turning back to Janeway. "So I'll just..."

"Why don't you wait in the hall a moment," she says. Her tone is so even that the hairs on the back of his neck raise slightly.

"Yes, Ma'am," he says, and slinks out to the corridor.

It's only a few minutes before Chakotay comes out but it feels like a lot longer.

"You stepped in it pretty good, Paris," Chakotay says, breaking out into laughter. "That was..." But he just keeps laughing and Tom can hear it all the way down to the turbolift.

Janeway is waiting for him inside with her hand over her mouth, her entire body a picture of disbelief.

"I don't even know where to start," she says.

"That wasn't my finest moment," he offers.

"Clearly."

"I'm sorry," he says. "But I'm pretty sure Chakotay set me up for that."

"_Commander_ Chakotay and I do not want to hear it," she says. "If you can't find a balance between your personal life and the command structure, then I don't know what we're going to do."

"First of all, it's _our_ personal life," he says. "Secondly, you can't tell me to find a balance if you're going to pull the rug out all the time!"

"What rug?"

"I came in here to talk and you dismissed me like a cadet! You don't get to decide alone when you're my girlfriend and when you're my boss," he says.

She sinks tiredly into a chair.

"I'm never not going to be your boss," she says. "Harry was right. You shouldn't ever have been able to make this jump."

"That's bullshit," he says.

"Is it?" she asks. "You're right, I was mad about that comment, but if Harry Kim can't accept it, what hope is there? He's a model officer and your best friend and he can't look me in the eye."

"Kathryn..."

"I'm sorry, Tom," she says. "I was foolish to even... I was foolish."

"Snap out of it," he says, sitting next to her. "This isn't a Starfleet review board, this is your whole life. Do you really want to throw it away because Harry Kim is a wuss?"

"It's more than that," she says. "Chakotay and I spent the better part of an hour talking about the pros and cons..."

"Of course Chakotay convinced you of the cons! It's Chakotay! He worships at the altar of Kathryn Janeway! He's been in love with you for years. He's sitting in his quarters right now, rubbing his hands together fiendishly hoping that you're breaking up with me right now."

"That's not fair," she says.

"_Fiendishly_!" he says. She cracks a small smile and his heart starts to speed up a little. If he can just convince her that all is not lost, then perhaps all will not be lost. "And who can blame him?"

"Chakotay is dear to me, but I'm not going to date him," she says. "He knows that."

"His head knows, maybe," Tom says. "And anyway, we're talking about you and me. And you _will_ date me. You already do."

"But..."

"Nope," he says. "I'm sorry, Captain, but it's just how it is and how it has to stay. But things will run a little more smoothly if you tell me when my foot is in my mouth from now on, okay?"

"Okay," she says. He puts his hands on her face and kisses her softly. She kisses him back.

"Good," he says.

"I can't believe you said all of that in front of him," she says, cracking a wide grin. "You should've seen the look on your face. Priceless."

"Could've stopped me at anytime, but no, you just let me go," he says, raising an arm and draping it over her shoulders. "Thanks for that."

"You're welcome," she says. "Serves you right."

"So," he says. "How often are you going to try to break up with me? I mean, I need to know how many of these little speeches I need to have on hand at any given time."

"Once a month, maybe?" she offers. "And I didn't _try_ to break up with you, I did break up with you. It didn't take for some reason."

"I don't accept your premise of breaking up," he says. "Ever."

"What if it really doesn't work?" she asks. "What if you and I aren't compatible in the end?"

"I've waited a long time for you, waited patiently," he says. "I'm not giving up."

"That's sweet," she says. She leans up to kiss him again. "I'm going to have cold feet. It's been a long time and I... I can't let anyone down again."

"Cold feet are okay," he promises. "Just trust me."

"I do."

"Then it's going to be okay," he promises. She hopes he's right.

oooo

Tom never thought he'd have to see his father again. There are things he misses about the Alpha Quadrant, but Tom is a smart man and he knows very well that his life is much better on Voyager, lost. The last home he had on Earth was in a prison cell and before that, it was in a dirty flat above a bar. Making Owen Paris proud has never been a specialty of Tom's and the knowledge he'd never have to prove anything to his father ever again is one of the things that keeps him warm at night.

But now, Kathryn is asking him to record a message. With the new technology that compresses the data streams, everyone has a chance to communicate with their loved ones back home. Their loved ones, or otherwise.

"I don't have anything to say to him," Tom says. "And there are people on this ship who have plenty to say. Let them have my space."

She glares at him from over her monitor. He's sitting in the recliner, and she's working at the desk. They've been living together for just under a month now. Neither had been in much hurry to take this step, but when Susan Nicoletti had finally married Joe Carey, Tom had offered up his larger quarters. Actually, the union of Susan and Joe had taken a lot of the heat off Tom and Janeway over nine months ago. Joe had a wife and two sons in the Alpha Quadrant but had never tried to hide his relationship with Susan. In one of the first batch of letters from home, Joe had received divorce papers -- apparently his wife had moved on as well. With that new information, it hadn't taken long for Susan and Joe to make it official. Susan had always been fairly cool and distant toward Tom, but when he'd handed his quarters over, she'd hugged him.

"I think you should at least say hello," Janeway says now. One hand is wrapped around her coffee mug and she rests her chin on her other hand. She's looking at him with her big, blue eyes.

"Why?"

"Because," she says, simply. "He's your family."

"You're my family," Tom says. "Harry is my family. Voyager is my family. Owen Paris is... my genetic donor."

"He misses you," Kathryn says. "I wish you'd reconsider."

"I don't know how I'd even start," Tom says. "Hi Dad, long time no see. I'm got my rank back because my captain took pity on me, and also, we have sex now."

"Well," she says, laughing. "I'd probably rephrase it a little."

He looks back down at the PADD in his hand. It's holo-code, but he's lost interest in it, now.

"How will you tell him about me?" she asks.

"Me?" he asks. "I'm not saying anything. You're telling him."

"I can't tell him," she says. "He's my boss."

"Mine too!"

"Ah, but he's your father, so the rank part matters less," she says.

"That doesn't even resemble logic," Tom accuses.

"Okay, let's strike a deal," she says. "Tomorrow, you and I will go down to astrometrics and record a message to him. Together."

"And say what?"

"I have some Starfleet business to respond to," she says. "And then, you know..." She waves her hand in the air. "We'll just come clean."

"Come clean?" he asks. "That's how you choose to put it?"

"Tom..."

"We live together and have been a couple for over a year, but in order to get the dirt off, we must confess it to my father..."

"Hold on there," she says. "I love you, you know that, and stop trying to worm out of this by making me feel bad. I hate that."

"Fine," he says. "We'll do it your way, but mark my words, Katie Janeway, this will not end well."

"Your father respects me," Janeway sniffs, terminating whatever it is that she's working on. "I don't see why he'd have a problem."

"The problem will be with me," Tom mutters but knows better than to keep trying to convince her.


	11. Chapter 11

In the morning, Tom and Seven wait in astrometrics for her to appear. **  
**  
"So," Tom says. "I heard you received a letter too."

"An aunt," Seven responds, crisply. She isn't much for small talk and though she has warmed to him slightly in the last year, Tom can tell Seven would rather him wait in the corridor so she didn't have to work around him.

"She'll be here any minute," Tom assures Seven.

"The Captain is often several minutes late," Seven says.

"No one can call her out on it," Tom says. "We run on Janeway time."

"It is inefficient," Seven says.

The doors open and Janeway strides in looking a little frazzled even though it's still early in the day.

"You want to do this later?" Tom asks, immediately.

"Do I look like I have nothing but time, Lieutenant?" she asks.

"No, Ma'am," he says. "But I think if you're going to be short with everyone today, I'm not sure you should start with Admiral Paris."

Janeway gives him this look that would make a lesser man shrivel. She is simply not in the mood today. Tom doesn't know exactly what has gone sour in the two hours since she walked out their door and now, but he isn't sure he wants to know.

"I know what I'm doing," she says. "Seven, cue it up please."

"Wait, we aren't even going to talk about what we're going to say?" Tom asks.

"Tom, I have eight minutes to do this right now, about 12 minutes worth of things to say to the Admiral, and about four minutes of space in this data stream," she says, running her hands through her hair. "I'm just going to do it."

"Fine," he says.

"Seven?" she says.

"Go ahead," Seven says.

Tom focuses on the blinking light and tries very hard not to make any sort of expression. He's not actually speaking to his father, doesn't have to see Owen's weathered face on the screen because they're simply making a recording but still, his heart beats faster knowing that his father is going to hear it. Janeway is speaking about business, speaking quickly. She's also, Tom realizes, a pretty good actress. Janeway has a hand on her hip and and a half-smirk that is pure Janeway and looking at her now he wouldn't be able to tell that she is upset.

And then, it's over. She's stopped the recording, encoded it and faces him.

"Next time," she says. "He'll just be happy to see you well. We'll do it next time." And then she's gone.

"Well," Tom says, looking at Seven.

Seven doesn't respond but he thinks he can see her smirking as she continues with her work.

oooo

A month later, it's time for the next stream. The excitement and tension in the ship always seems to rise palpably when the topic of home comes up and the data streams have done nothing but improve morale tenfold. Voyager has received the response back and several people are working to decompile and sort it out in time to be able to send a response before the window closes. Kathryn gets her HQ response early and it happens to be from Admiral Paris. Tom receives nothing, but Kathryn, who on this day is being particularly nice to him, tells him that Owen says he is glad his son is looking well.

"And in response, you say?" he asks.

"You are looking well," she says, smiling at him.

"You have cold feet," he accuses.

"What?"

"This was your idea and you have cold feet," he says.

"I don't want to talk about this on the bridge," she says.

"It's your ready room."

"I don't want to talk about this on deck one," she says.

"No one says we have to say anything," he says. "We're here and my father is way the hell over there," he says, pointing out the window. "So far that even if we do tell him, and he gets pissed, there's absolutely nothing he can do about it for at least 25 years."

"Is this supposed to cheer me up?" she asks, crossing her arms.

"Why are you still afraid of him?" he asks.

"Why are you?" she retorts.

"He's my father," Tom shrugs.

"I loved my father," she says, getting up and walking to the front of her desk. She perches on the edge right in front of him. "But he was gone and instead I had your father."

"Babe," he says taking her face into his hands. "You basically just said that in a way we have the same father and that is so wrong."

She scrunches up her nose.

"You're right."

"Never again."

"Okay," she says. "Now why don't you go back to work?"

"I will go back to work, but I do so with the understanding that this issue continues to be unresolved," he says, and disappears back onto the bridge. She sighs and rubs her temples. He's right and she knows it. She'd meant to tell Owen but had choked at the last second and spent thirty days convincing herself that it isn't necessary to do so anymore.

There are, of course, regulations. Her situation is not completely without precedent... people fall in love and sometimes those people are Captains and lower ranked officers. It is her duty, as the Captain of Voyager, to file a report notifying Starfleet Command of her relationship with her junior officer. Except that, this is Voyager, and they are alone. Filing the report isn't going to change anything - Tom isn't going to be transferred to another ship. He can't even be transferred to another department, so what good is it to upset everything now?

It was easier to convince herself of this when they didn't live together.

If they get home - no, when they get home - the fact that she didn't admit this early is going to bite her in the ass pretty hard. She's going to have to come clean.

Next month, next month, she's going to have to definitely come clean.

oooo

"Seven, do you think I could have a moment to do this alone?" Tom asks. Seven nods and steps out into the corridor. He takes a deep breath and activates the recording. He's going to do this for Kathryn because she can't seem to do this for herself.

"Admiral Paris," he says and then lowers his eyes briefly. "Dad... it's Tom. I, ah, I hope you saw me last time. I'm doing just fine, actually. I haven't sent you anything until now because there's limited space every time but I thought it was important to tell you this myself, so, you know. I'm gonna keep it brief. And I want you to know that I'm telling you this as your son, not as an officer. I've fallen in love. I know, I know," he says, and scratches his head. "I fall in love with any pretty face that walks by, but this... this is the real thing. This is forever.

"Dad, you don't get to decide who forever is going to be with. You can try to have a say, but when it happens, it just happens. And to me it just happened and although it isn't the most ideal situation, being here in the Delta Quadrant, I'd be lying if I said this isn't the best thing that has ever happened to me. And she's the reason. Dad... Kathryn Janeway is the best thing that has ever happened to me and I love her. I'm in love with her and the craziest damn thing about it is that she loves me back. I know, I know, it breaks about sixteen rules but there has to be a point where you just live your life in a way that is going to make you happy and that's what were doing. And you know Kathryn Janeway, and I don't think you can blame me one bit for falling for her. She's... she's just so good. Such a good, good person.

So that's my confession. I think, in time, she's going to submit to Starfleet Command the proper forms, but until then I hope you cut us a little slack. This is the woman I'm going to marry someday and I know you already think of her as family, so... I hope you're happy. Because I am happy.

I hope we see each other soon, Dad."

He ends the recording and encodes it before he can lose the nerve. When he sees Seven in the corridor, he nods his thanks.

"Do you have time to send it this time around?" he asks.

"I will make sure it goes," Seven promises.

"Thank you," he says. "I just... changed my mind after all."

"I did too," she says. "I recorded a message for my Aunt."

"Good," Tom grins. "I'm glad."

In the mess hall, Tom sits with Harry and watches him eat his dinner.

"Aren't you hungry?" Harry asks.

"I was until I came in here," Tom says, eying the tray. "I can probably get the Captain to make dinner and then I don't have to eat it."

"Have you combined your ration accounts yet?" Harry asks.

"No," Tom says. "We've only just started living together!"

"It's the next step," Harry says.

"How do you even know that? Are you just making up steps to freak me out now? Other ships don't have ration accounts, Harry."

"It goes moving in together, combining accounts, marriage. I don't make the rules," he says.

"I think those last two are backwards," Tom says. Harry's fork hesitates on the way to his mouth.

"Are you going to marry the Captain?" Harry asks, like he'd never considered the concept.

"Well," Tom says. "You know, maybe someday but not today so calm down."

"That's insane," Harry says. "Is that even legal?"

"I..." His snide remark dies on his lips. "I think so? I mean, if we were in the Alpha quadrant, I couldn't work under her direct chain of command, but out here..."

"I guess what Starfleet doesn't know can't hurt them."

"Yeah..." Tom says. "I may have, you know... told my dad."

Harry lets out a high-pitched whistle. "And what does she think of that?"

"Technically, it was her idea to tell him in the first place."

"She doesn't know," Harry deduces.

"Not yet, no."

"Tom, you're a man living on the edge my friend," Harry says. "All right, I gotta go to work."

"Work? I need you to hide me for at least several hours while I think of a plan!" Tom begs.

"No can do, I'm on night watch tonight," he says. "Guess you're on your own."

"Well, crap," Tom says to himself. He has little recourse but to go home.

Surprisingly, she is already home, running a bath and easing off her boots.

"Hey," she says. "I was thinking of just replicating something for dinner and staying in."

"Sounds good," he says. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she says, plucking off her pips one by one and setting them on the nightstand.

"Do you ever think about getting married?" he asks. She pauses and raises an eyebrow.

"Are you asking me?"

"No! I mean... I love you but I'm not ready for that, yet."

"Me either," she says. "But yeah, sometimes. I've tried, you know, but it never has happened."

He looks at the pips.

"I guess we couldn't anyway," he says. "I mean, you're the only captain and you can't marry yourself, so..."

"I'd have to transfer the captaincy to Chakotay for a while and then take it back," she says, shrugging. "It's not like there's a class or something. You're a captain, you just do it."

"Oh," he says.

"I don't think Chakotay would be thrilled at that prospect... why are you asking this?"

"Kath," he says. "I..."

"I know that look," she says. "You told him, didn't you? You told your father without me!"

"You know what I love?" Tom asks. "I love how well we know one another."

"Tom! That admission really needed to be paired with the proper paperwork and now it's too late! The window for sending things is closed!" Her fists are on her hips.

"I told my dad, not Admiral Paris."

"THEY ARE THE SAME PEOPLE," she says.

"Not to me!"

"Your father is a stickler for rules," she says. "He might look the other way for you, but he's not going to do it for me."

"Give him some credit," Tom says. "He'd do it for you over me."

"You've spent who knows how long trying to convince me that your dad doesn't love you and now you're asking me to give him some credit?"

She stalks angrily into the bathroom and he can hear her slam her hand against the button to stop the water.

He thinks she might come back out but he can hear the movement of water and so he goes in after her to finish the fight. She's sitting in the middle of the tub with her knees drawn up to her chin, obviously still fuming.

"Are you mad we didn't do it together or are you mad I did it all?" he asks.

"I don't know," she says and at least this is honest. "All I want to do is get this ship and her crew home, but the closer we get, the more frightened I get."

"Why?" he asks, sitting on the edge of tub.

"I'm not... I'm not the same woman I was when we left. No one is the same and the place we're going has changed too. This ship has done some questionable things in order to get this far and we're going to have to push the envelope even more to finish the job and I... I don't know what's going to happen to us." She has tears in her eyes when she looks up at him.

"Isn't that why you joined Starfleet?" Tom asks, dipping his hand into the hot water. He finds her fingers beneath the surface and interlocks them with his own. His sleeve is going to be wet but he doesn't care.

"What?"

"To change," he says. "Of course it's going to be different. We've had to face things, really bad things. But not knowing what is going to happen is, in my opinion, the best part. It's an adventure."

"To you, it's an adventure. To me, it's my career. I'm the one that's going to have to face the music on the other side."

"You're a fool if you think your crew wouldn't be right there beside you," he says. "And, if Starfleet thinks there is something wrong about how we have lived our lives, then they are an organization we want no affiliation with."

"I've put my whole life into Starfleet," she says.

"It's a big universe," he says. "You know that better than anyone. We'd land on our feet."

"You're getting pretty good at this pep talk thing," she says, smiling up at him.

"What did you do for them before you had me?" he asks.

"Gave them to myself," she says. "Or sometimes I would just push those feelings down into the pit of my stomach where they would fester until I snapped an some sort of inappropriate time."

"Well," he says. "I think this is better."

"Me too," she agrees. "I want chicken. And rice. Can we have chicken and rice?"

"Is that a hint to get out and let you finish?" he asks.

"It's a hint to make me some dinner," she says.

"Aye, Aye, Captain," he says.

As adventurous as Janeway is in her work life, she's fairly predictable at home. She likes to eat the same things, listen to the same sort of music, drink out of the same chipped china mug. He finds now he doesn't mind eating the same four or five dinners after a year of doing so. He generally eats lunch alone so he can vary it up so another night of chicken and rice doesn't make him want to strangle someone. They don't have to eat the same thing to eat together but Janeway is old fashioned and she always eyes him warily when what is on his plate is different.

He's putting it on the table when he hears the tub draining. She comes out in his robe and a towel wrapped around her head. She has her own robe - more than one, actually, but the second his clothes hit her closet, she claimed them as her own. The robe is comically large on her and she's wrapped up neck to ankle, but she still manages to look sexy doing it. She sinks into her chair and is half way through the meal before she looks up or takes a breath.

"So," she says. "Besides tossing me out of the proverbial airlock, what did you do today?"

"Well," he says, letting it slide. "I flew a starship for a little while."

"That's pretty impressive," she says.

"I think I made Seven smile."

"That's really impressive," she says. She looks as if she's going to ask more but from somewhere within the deep pockets of the robe, her communicator demands her attention. She excuses herself into the bedroom. He is getting used to this, her seeking privacy to answer hails. At first it had hurt his feelings - did she not trust him - but he's come to understand that there are things for only the Captain's ears, some things he is simply better off not knowing. When she comes back, her hair is dry and she's in her uniform.

"No," he says.

"Sorry," she says. "Duty calls. Don't wait up."

"Anything I can do to help?" he asks, but she just touches his shoulder as she walks by.

He does try to wait up for her, but when she isn't back by gamma shift change, he calls it a night and falls asleep in their bed alone. When the alarm goes off, he wakes up and she's next to him. She's deep in it, doesn't stir when he calls for the alarm to reset. He wants to wake her, to make sure what kept her out half the night isn't going to eat up his day too, but instead he creeps out of the bed and into the shower. He calls up the bridge roster to see when she's due on duty. He's almost certain their duty call is the same, but when he brings up the bridge shift, he can see that Chakotay has already rearranged things to give her a few more hours.

Then whatever she was involved in, Chakotay was part of too. It was a mystery and a mystery was something Tom Paris could get behind. The old Tom Paris would already be fishing for news by talking to those who'd been on duty and starting a pool to see who came out right, but this Tom Paris needed to get information in a way that would not implode his home life. The wisest action would be to go to the source, but she was currently sleeping. Going to source two should be the next step but a day without one-on-one interaction with Chakotay was the basis of any good day. No, he would have to do this delicately.

On the bridge, Chakotay was absent as well. Tuvok sat in Janeway's chair, his spine erect.

"Good morning, Commander," Tom says.

"Lieutenant," he says.

"You're here bright and early," Tom says, sitting down in his chair.

"Indeed."

"As I recall, you're not due on the bridge for several hours," Tom says.

"Lieutenant, I do not recall you ever being concerned with my schedule before," Tuvok says rather pointedly.

"It's just that usually the Captain or Commander Chakotay takes this shift," Tom says. "Why not today do you think?"

"It seems to me that you would know more about the Captain's location than I would, and your attempt to fish for information will not succeed," Tuvok responds. From the Ops station, Ensign Van Hausen snickers.

"Okay," Tom says, spinning to face his console. Tuvok was a long shot, anyhow. An hour later, he volunteers to go on an errand to engineering. If there is no information on the bridge, engineering is the next best place. He and B'Elanna have a decent working relationship. Their friendship is distant and overly polite, but she no longer snarls at him in passing and may even be willing to indulge his curiosity. He hands his PADD over to Carey and jumps on the lift to the second level to find B'Elanna.

"Go away, do it now," B'Elanna says.

"Did you work late last night?" Tom asks.

"Yes, because when I said go away, what I really meant was I have time for idle chat."

"People were working late last night and I'd like to know why," he says.

"I always work late," B'Elanna says.

"Did you work with Captain Janeway?" he asks.

"No," she says. "But even if I did, it is not my job to help you keep tabs on your ball and chain."

"I'm not keeping... whatever."

"Did you check the logs?" she asks.

"Nothing has been filed yet, but it's still early," he says.

"Maybe nothing happened," she shrugs. "Or maybe it was a personnel issue and it won't show up in the service logs."

"Maybe," he says.

She snaps. "I've got it! Maybe she's sick at looking at your smarmy face?"

"This has been a pleasant exchange as always," he says. "See you at senior staff."

"Burn in Gre'Thor," she calls after him.

Perhaps friendship is still too strong of a word. He decides to stop in sickbay on his way back to the bridge. It's not that he particularly wants to see the Doctor, but if something went down, the Doctor will know about it. He'll just pop in and have a look around the medical logs and be on his way. He walks through the door and stops abruptly. The Doctor is there along with Janeway and someone in a biobed behind the privacy screen.

"Tom," she says, looking surprised. "What are you doing here?"

The truth is only going to hurt him now. If someone was really hurt, he's going to feel badly about fishing for gossip.

"Headache," he offers. "Everything okay?" She walks toward him, pulling him away from the Doctor and his patient.

"It's Sue," she says in a low voice. "She lost the baby last night."

"Oh," he says. "I didn't even know she was... I just saw Joe in engineering and he seemed fine..."

"Mr. Carey didn't know," she says. "And Sue is refusing to tell him."

"That she lost the baby?"

"She seems to feel that she's protecting him if he never knew at all," she says. "She's devastated, of course, there's no way Mr. Carey won't know something is the matter but we can't force her to tell him, so we're just trying to reason with her now."

"Why are you telling me?" he asks.

"You work here," she says. "The Doctor isn't going to release her until tomorrow morning and you have a shift later."

"Captain," the Doctor says coming over. "I've sedated her for the time being. I'll let you know when she wakes up again."

In the turbolift on the way to the bridge, she turns to him.

"We need to have babies," she says.

"What? Kath, I... I mean, I didn't know... wow, this is..." he stammers.

"I mean," she says. "Voyager. If this ship really does have 30 more years to go, or more, we need to start replacing our crew. We've had one child in almost seven years. Why have I not encouraged more?"

"Okay, well, first of all you scared the hell out of me with that delivery, so thanks for that. And secondly, while you are a great leader and very good at giving orders, I don't think procreation falls under your jurisdiction."

"I know that," she says. "But encouragement couldn't hurt."

"Bringing a child onto a ship like this is a serious decision," he says. "Voyager isn't the safest place to raise a family."

"Thanks," she says. The doors open and she storms onto the bridge, barking for a report. They can't finish this conversation now, but they will sooner or later. Tom hopes it's later.


	12. Chapter 12

"Do you think I'd make a good father?" Tom asks.

"I try not to think about it at all," the Doctor says. Susan is still asleep in her bed and it has been an otherwise slow shift. "Why?"

"I don't know," he says. "Baby talk."

"As I recall, you and our illustrious leader have already procreated once. Are you thinking of a repeat performance?" he asks.

"No," Tom says, frowning at that still very embarrassing memory. "Maybe. We haven't talked about it."

"While the Captain is past her prime child-bearing years, it isn't out of the question," he says.

"Kathryn needs to get her crew home," Tom says. He rarely calls the Captain by her given name outside of their quarters and even more rarely around other crew members, but it seems appropriate now. "I don't think splitting her attention away from that goal is something she wants."

"What about what you want?" the Doctor asks. Tom doesn't really know. He always thought he'd have children, but when he realized it was Kathryn he wanted to be with, he'd set those feelings aside. Perhaps he'd been to hasty in dismissing them?

"I don't know," he says. "I really don't."

He stays in sickbay after his shift ends. He's almost done cataloging the blood samples the Doctor had given him and he wasn't in any real rush to get home.

"Janeway to Paris."

He taps at his badge.

"Paris here," he says.

"What are you doing?" she asks. He picks up the green vial.

"Processing Ensign Vorik's blood," he says. "What are you doing?"

"I came home to see if you wanted to go to poker night but you weren't here," she says.

"Yeah, I'm still at work," he says. "Go on ahead. I'll meet you there."

"Okay," she says. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," he says. "I just don't want to have to finish this tomorrow. Paris out."

He'll pay for that abruptness. She'll watch him, her eyebrows furrowed until he can't take it any longer. She'll touch him lightly on the forearm, snuggle sweetly against him in the night, use her body to remind him that he isn't alone and doesn't have to fight isolated battles any longer.

He goes to poker because he has a hankering to win. Tom spends a lot of time trying to be disarming. He's a sweet talker, he is a magician. He can do a trick with the left hand and a whole other thing with the right - a dark thing that never gets noticed. Tonight, though, he feels like holding darkness in both hands. He feels like winning and cutting throats on the way down.

Poker is happening in what was supposed to be a glorified storage closet. It is meant for easy access to materials in a crisis - repair kits, spare parts, things like that, but now it's where they play poker. There is a table, a few chairs, and a bucket full of drinks. It fits six people, usually they shove in eight. The game is already on when he gets there.

It's gratifying to see Janeway socializing and joking with the crew. It has taken some work on Tom's part to get everyone comfortable with it, Janeway being at the top of that list, but now she can co-mingle with her crew more easily and everyone is better for it. And, she plays a mean hand of poker. He doesn't even mind that she's sitting next to to Chakotay.

"Tom!" Harry says. "We saved you a chair between your best friend and your best girl."

"Thanks," Tom says, sliding into the chair. "What are we playing for?"

"Rations," says Ayala. "What else?"

"Just as long as the boss doesn't find out," Chakotay says, and everyone chuckles. Tom doesn't laugh, just counts out chips and lines them up in neat piles in front of him. Under the table, Janeway nudges him with her boot and he pretends not to notice.

"Deal 'em out," he says. He sees Janeway and Harry exchange a glance over him, sees Harry shrug slightly, but decides to focus on his hand.

They're half an hour in and two people out when Joe Carey comes into the room. Everyone's head turns and he hears Lucy Abbott gasp. Joe looks terrible and when he moves to the only vacant corner that will hold him, it's like watching a drunken man trying to cross an icy street.

"Mr. Carey," Janeway says standing up and it's clear to everyone that she's no longer their friend, but their captain once more.

"Captain Janeway!" he cries. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Mr. Carey, I've seen you looking better," she says, somehow both compassion and stern at once.

"I don't mind telling you that I've felt better," he says. "Is this ale for anyone?"

"Why don't we step out?" Janeway says. Most everyone looks confused except for Tom and Chakotay who can barely look the man in the eye.

"I came for the game," he says. "Not much for cards, really but Susie doesn't miss it. She's here every week, ain't that right?"

"That's right, Joe," Tom says, softly.

"That's right, Tommy," he says, opening the bottle of ale and taking a deep pull.

"Mr. Carey," Janeway tries again. There isn't any way she can navigate around the small space to get to him.

"Joe," Chakotay says. "Let's go."

"I'm here for the game," he says, his voice rising.

"Not anymore, Lieutenant," Chakotay says. And somehow Chakotay and the Captain manage to get Joe out of the room. As soon as the doors close behind them, everyone turns to look at Tom. Tom looks down at his hand. The fight has gone out of him, and now he's just tired. He has two pair - kings and sixes.

"I fold," Tom says, and throws the cards down.

"What was that about?" Harry asks.

"Susan had a miscarriage," Tom says. They're all going to find out sooner or later, especially with Joe wandering the halls drunk and weepy, so he may as well tell them now. "He didn't even know she was pregnant."

"Oh," Harry says. There's a general murmur of sadness and regret.

"I think we should probably stick a fork in this," Tom says, standing. "I don't know about you, but I'm not in the mood anymore."

In the hall, there's no sign of anyone, so he decides to make his way home. He's only slightly surprised to see Kathryn there, her head in her hands.

"Where's Joe?"

"Chakotay took him to sober up," she says, looking up at him. "He's better at counseling than I am anyway."

"Poor guy," Tom says.

"You don't think Voyager is a good place to raise kids anyway," Janeway says. It's a pot shot and they both know it.

"Stating that this ship is dangerous isn't me fishing for a fight, it's a fact," Tom says. "Nor, is a reflection on you or your leadership."

"It hurt my feelings," she says.

"Tough shit!" he says, throwing up his hands. "And I'll tell you another thing, if it were you and me instead of Joe and Sue, I can't say I wouldn't stumble drunk into the poker game too."

She turns away from him, her mouth a thin line, set hard. He sighs.

"Kath-"

"You've been in a foul mood all day," she says. "That's fine, we all get to have bad days. I've had more than my fair share of them, but what I don't understand is why you're taking it out on me."

Tom sits down across from her. On the coffee table, there is a vase of fresh flowers - white roses. This is something he still isn't used to; coming home and the space smelling fragrant and not like leftover pizza and sweaty workout clothes.

"I love you," he says. "And loving you is worth every sacrifice but I guess I'd never thought about children... or not having them."

She almost breaks, he sees the twitch right below her brow and the tremble in her lips, but she doesn't.

"Tom, I'm 42," she says.

"I know."

"I have to get this ship home before I do anything else."

"I know."

"I can't have a baby," she says.

"I know," he says. "I know all of this and I agree with you."

"Then...?"

"It's just hard to let something go sometimes," he says. "You're right, though, I've been in a pretty bad mood and I'm going to try to get my chin up."

"It isn't that I never wanted children," she says. "Or that I don't want them with you."

"That's nice to hear," he says.

"And in a way, we've already..."

"We have a pretty firm agreement we don't mention that anymore," he says.

"Okay." She grins at him. She doesn't really like talking about their offspring or where they might be either.

"Joe and Sue will try again," he says.

"Yeah," she says. When he sits down next to her, she leans into him. "I hope they do."

oooo

As it turns out, the day Susan gets pregnant again is the day Seven calls a staff meeting to alert them to the coming threat.

"The Borg," she says, standing in front of the display screen in the conference room. Tom glances at Janeway and her face is set. They are about to enter heavy Borg territory. Seven can predict where ships might be heaviest and where she thinks the closest transwarp conduit is, but she's been severed from the collection for a long time and cannot be sure.

On Voyager, it's generally one thing after another, but the Borg has been their consistent enemy throughout this journey. They can't defeat the Borg, they can only hold them off until the next attack.

After the meeting, Tom is working in sickbay when Susan comes in. It's Tom who scans her and gets to tell her the good news. She seems happy but wary and reluctant. Tom immediately hands the case over to the Doctor. What he really wants is to be on the bridge. That's where the action is today - today is a day of strategy and long term planning. He wants to be a part of it, wants to be by Kathryn's side while she does it.

A few hours later, he gets his wish.

"All Senior Officers to the Bridge!"

Tuvok's voice filters through every comm line on the ship and Tom doesn't waste any time in heading for a turbolift. When he gets to the bridge, there's a shuttle on the view screen. It looks familiar, but far more advanced than anything Starfleet has produced or anything they've seen in this quadrant.

"Report," Janeway says.

"It came out of nowhere," Harry says. "It's signature is... I think it's Starfleet."

"Hail them," Janeway orders.

"They're already hailing us," Harry says. Tom slips into his seat.

"Open a channel," Janeway says.

When the screen changes Tom is confused for a moment and blurts without thinking.

"Dad?" he asks.

"I don't think so," Janeway says.

"Captain," says the man. "It wasn't easy to find you."

"Well," Janeway says, her voice sort of thin. "We're pretty far off the beaten path."

"Captain?" Chakotay asks, confused.

"Sorry," the man says. "I know this is probably confusing for everyone. I know you and you don't know me. My name is Captain Thomas Paris."

Everyone turns to Tom, still sitting at the helm but Tom can only stare, his brow furrowed. He can see it now, it is himself but much older. It's like looking into a very distorted mirror.

"Permission to come aboard?" The new Tom asks.

"Granted," says Janeway. The viewscreen reverts back to showing the exterior of the shuttle. "Lieutenant Paris, would you accompany me to shuttle bay one?"

"Aye," he says, and rises shakily to his feet. Everyone stares after them and when the doors close, she takes his hand in hers. "What's happening?" he whispers.

"I don't know," she says.

"How did you know?"

"I would know you anywhere," she says. "I would know... I would always know you."

She's shaken too.

"He's from the future?" Tom asks.

"It would appear so."

"What does he want?" Tom asks.

"I don't know," she says. "We're going to find out."

The turbolift arrives and he follows her out. In the shuttlebay, Captain Paris is just stepping off. When he sees Janeway, his face breaks into a big grin and he opens his arms to pull her into a huge hug.

"Whoa, whoa, buddy, paws off," Tom says, stepping between them.

"Sorry," Captain Paris says. "It's just, she's a sight for sore eyes."

"Thank you," Janeway says. "But I would really like to know why you're here."

"Of course," Captain Paris says.

"I think we should go to sickbay to make sure he really is who he says he is," Tom says. It's so strange - looking at Captain Paris is giving him butterflies in his stomach. The man is markedly older, but it's _his_ body, his height, his eye color. It's him.

"Let's go," Captain Tom says. He can't stop looking at Janway and Tom doesn't like how carefully Captain Paris' eyes take everything in. It's like he hasn't seen her in a long time and Tom doesn't like the way that makes him feel.

oooo

Their DNA is a match, and so now they're all in the conference room waiting to hear the tale.

"I'm here to get you home," Captain Paris says. "Without my help, it's going to take you another 24 years to get home."

"What about the temporal prime directive?" Tuvok asks.

"My wife and I have planned this for years. I'll upload the data and schematics of our plan into Voyager's computer. It's going to be risky, but it's of the utmost importance that you get home within the year," he says, starting the transfer using the wall display. This is not an answer, nor an explanation.

"Your wife," B'Elanna says. No one wants to look right at the Captain but it's what they're all thinking.

"The Admiral wanted to come herself, but we decided I was better suited for the job," Captain Paris says. "Okay, Voyager has just entered into this part of the Delta Quadrat, grid 567," he says, pointing out their location. "Right now, we are at the distant edge of Borg space. From this point on, you will encounter more and more cubes and spheres."

"That's already begun," offers Harry. "There are three Borg ships on long range sensors."

"Tuvok," says Captain Paris. "I have sensor and shield modifications to make them easier to spot and us easier to hide."

"Let's cut to the chase," Janeway says. "You said you came to get us home. How, exactly, are you planning this?"

"The same way the Borg do it," Captain Paris says.

"The transwarp conduit?" Seven asks.

"Bingo," says Captain Paris.

"Tuvok," Janeway says. "Why don't you and Ensign Kim get started on those modifications. I'd like to have a word alone with our guest."

Tom hesitates and when everyone else has left, she doesn't look at him or ask him to leave so he decides to stay.

"I can't tell you what you're going to ask," Captain Paris says immediately.

"How do you know what I'm going to ask?" she responds.

"I've been married to Kathryn Janeway for thirty-two years," he says. "At this point, I just know."

Janeway looks at Tom only briefly before looking away. This has to be bigger than them - this has to be about the ship and the crew.

"I don't understand," Tom pipes in. "If we do what you ask... if we get Voyager home sooner, then your timeline won't exist."

"I'm aware of all the consequences," Captain Paris says.

"Why the rush, then?" Janeway asks. "Why not let events unfold naturally?"

Captain Paris doesn't answer. He just shakes his head. Janeway looks as if she's about to start arguing.

"Janeway to the bridge." Tuvok's voice sounds as reluctant as a Vulcan can sound and Janeway eyes Captain Paris as she walks past him. She trusts Tom to hold the status quo until she comes back and as she passes him, he feels her hand brush his back. Janeway doesn't like to broadcast what they have together but she does support him and this small contact tells him that she knows that this must be strange for him. Tells him to hang on just a while longer.

Alone in the conference room, the two men stare at one another.

"I know this is strange," Captain Paris says. "It is for me too."

"There's something you're not saying," Tom says.

"There's a lot I can't say," Captain Paris says.

"But it's about her," Tom says, nodding his head toward the door that leads to the bridge. "It's about Kathryn."

"Tom," Captain Paris says. "I don't know what you need to do to convince her, but you've got to convince her."

"Why?" Tom asks.

"One day," Captain Paris says, looking like he knows he should just keep his mouth closed. "You're going to wake up next to your wife who you've shared a bed with for years and she's going to roll over and look at you like she's never seen you before."

Tom shakes his head. He doesn't understand.

"When you fell in love with Kathryn," Captain Paris says. "When you first began dating it was right after she'd lost her memory."

"You're saying the fact that she had her brain reset in her early forties is going to affect her in her 70s?" Tom asks, incredulously.

"I admire the Doc as much as anyone," Captain Paris says. "But this ship was limited. You need to get your Captain Janeway to Starfleet Medical as soon as you can. You need to get home and get her in to see Dr. Beverley Crusher so they can fix her. If you let nature unfold, it's going to be too late. You're going to lose her way too soon."

And suddenly, the uneasiness and unsettled feeling Tom has been nursing since this man appeared on the view screen turns into blind, hot panic. The idea of Kathryn turning into a shell or reverting back to the woman in sickbay who looked at him without a spark of recognition is the most terrifying thing he can imagine.

"You understand now," Captain Paris says. "But you can't tell her. She won't allow it if she knows it's for her."

"No kidding," Tom says.

"There are other things," Captain Paris says. "There are reasons other than this, but you're the one who can convince her. You're the reason long ago, when she still had good days, we decided that I should be the one to come here."

"And if I can't?" Tom asks.

"Then there was no point in me coming here," Captain Paris says. "Then my death is meaningless."

"Death?" Tom asks.

"Can't go back now," he says.

"She won't let you die," Tom says.

"She'll look at the data. She'll read the report. She'll understand what needs to be done," Captain Paris says with confidence.

The doors open and Janeway stands in the frame half in the conference and half on the bridge.

"Tom," she says. "We need your wings."

"The temporal disturbance caused by my coming has alerted the Borg?" Captain Paris asks. Janeway nods as Tom slides past her and out into the bridge. As he takes his seat, the red alert klaxons sound and the bridge goes darker. Captain Paris moves to the display where Seven stands just behind the command chairs. "Move to these coordinates," Captain Paris says. Seven looks at Janeway who nods before Seven allows Captain Paris access. "We can hide in the class eight nebula."

"It will not hide us for long," Seven comments.

"It'll buy us a few hours," Janeway concedes. "Do it."

Tom takes care to ease Voyager in. The cubes won't follow because the nebula is corrosive. Voyager can't stay there for very long either, but they're willing to sacrifice the power to the shields in order to buy some time to make a tactical plan.

When Janeway and Chakotay lock themselves in the ready room with the Captain Paris, Tom can hardly stand it. He wants to be in there, wants to hear everything this other version of him self has to say. He hates the way Captain Paris looks at Janeway, hates the way Janeway seems so suspicious.

The shift changes before any of them emerge but Tom is reluctant to give up his seat and to leave the bridge. Harry has to coax him away.

"She won't keep secrets from you," Harry says in the turbolift. "She's going to fill you in."

"Kathryn doesn't keep secrets," Tom says. "Captain Janeway does."

"Are you okay?" Harry asks.

"There's a version of me here," Tom says. "I don't know if he's real, if he's telling the truth, if we should trust him… And I don't like his hairline either."

Harry smirks.

"Let's get dinner," Harry says. "Let's see what the gossip mill is saying before we jump to any conclusions."

But when Tom walks into the mess, people expect the information to be coming from him. And maybe he does have more information than anyone at the moment, but he isn't going to share. After dinner, he begs off any more time with Harry and heads to sickbay. Mostly he avoids the place like a plague, but he wants to ask the Doctor about the Captain's accident. It's been months and months since there's been even a reminder of what had happened. Now, she recalls things perfectly and normally – in fact, Tom can't remember the last time she had to reach for a memory.

The Doctor isn't in sickbay when he gets there and when he asks the computer for the Doctor's location, the computer informs him that the EMH is deactivated. Tom moves to the display panel in the Doctor's office and uses his sickbay clearance to call up the files from the accident. But, when he tries to pull up the accompanying logs, his access is denied and the denied access activates the EMH automatically.

"Mr. Paris," the Doctor says, startling him from behind. "Snooping around, are we?"

"Caught me," Tom says, knowing there isn't any point in lying. The Doctor already knows exactly what he'd been trying to access.

"Is the Captain complaining of symptoms?" The Doctor asks.

"No…" Tom says, uneasily.

"I see. Does this suddenly itch for information have something to do with our new visitor?"

"I just… I am worried we may have missed something," Tom says. "What if somewhere down the road…"

The Doctor holds up his hand.

"I don't want to know what you know," he says. "But I can take a look at her again."

"I don't know if that's enough," Tom says. The Doctor scowls at him, as if Tom meant it as an insult. Tom doesn't really care much about the Doctor's feelings. In this instance, he already knows he's right.

oooo

Tom wants very badly to speak to Janeway but he knows he can't contact her. He simply must wait for her to come home and must hope that she comes home at all. There have been times, trying times of crisis where he won't see her for days. She won't leave the bridge and will catnap in her ready room only when Chakotay forces it upon her. This might be one of the times but then again, he thinks it would be cruel of her to make him wait.

He doesn't sleep when she's gone at any rate. He doesn't even stay in bed; he paces around the quarters which grow smaller with every passing hour. Finally, when it's only a few hours until Alpha shift, she comes in with tired, red eyes.

"Tom," she says. "I'm so glad you're awake."

He thinks she'll be irritable or dismissive but she comes in and puts her arms around him. She rests her head on his chest and he hugs her back.

"It's okay," he says, rubbing her back. She isn't crying, but she sags against him. He kisses the crown of her head. "It's okay."

"Do you want to get some sleep?" she asks, already worming her hand beneath his shirt.

Now, Tom knows better than anyone that Kathryn Janeway is a woman who needs warming up. She does not jump into bed with him at a moments notice, he must wine her and dine her, must give her ample notice, must rub her feet and her neck. But now, as they move toward the bedroom, her fingers undo the clasp on his pants and when his legs hit the mattress, she's pulling her shirt over her head and reaching behind her to undo the clasp of her bra.

"Kath..." he says. "You okay?"

"Touch me," she says, taking his wrists and pulling his hands to her breasts. "Please."

He's happy to oblige. He kisses her neck, her mouth, her collarbone which protrudes from her skin. He takes a nipple in his mouth, he turns her around so her back is against him and eases his hand into her uniform slacks.

The bed quickly becomes a tangled mess of blankets and discarded pieces of clothing. At one point, she grunts in pain and pulls his comm badge out from beneath them where it had stabbed her.

Janeway's legs wrap so tightly around him that he will bruise. He will have nail marks in his shoulders and red scallops where her teeth bite into his neck. When they are finished, they lie side by side breathing heavily. Tom is hot, covered with sweat, but Janeway pulls the sheet over her with an arm across her forehead.

"I just want to know one thing," he says, drowsily.

"Okay."

"Did you come home so turned on because you'd been thinking about having sex with both of us at once?"

"No!" she cries and reaches out to smack him for good measure. They settle back down and he closes his eyes.

"Good."

"I am now, though," she says. "Though I doubt he'd go for it."

"Oh, he would," Tom says. "Trust me. He would."

"Let's get some sleep while we can, hmm?" she asks, putting an end to the conversation before it got out of hand. She rolls over, curls into his side to sleep.

"Are you going to tell me what's going to happen?" he asks. He can feel her tense. "You were in there for hours."

"I know I was," she says. "And I will tell everyone but not yet."

"I'm part of everyone?"

"For this, I need you to be just one of my crew," she says. He doesn't like it, but that's how it has to be sometimes. "Tom?"

"I get it," he says. "Get some rest."

"Thanks," she murmurs, closing her eyes. "Love you."

oooo

"Absolutely not." Tom is the first to speak up, the first to break the uneasy silence.

"Mr. Paris, this is not a democracy," Janeway says.

"But it is surely up for discussion," Tom fires back quickly. "You'd never ask us to march to our death without making sure we were willing and that's what you doing here, by the way. You're ordering us all to commit suicide. But it isn't even suicide because we're going to be assimilated by the Borg and live as hollow shells of-"

"Tom," Harry hisses.

"He's right," B'Elanna says. This is a rarity, the agreement from her side of the table. "It won't work."

"It will work," Captain Paris says. "It has to work."

"Has to work?" Tom snaps, his eyes narrowing at this older version of himself, at this unwelcome intrusion who has some how poisoned Janeway's mind. "Well, maybe if we all hold hands and wish real hard..."

"Lieutenant Paris that is quite enough," Janeway snaps. "We know your opinion, let's move on."

It's a charade, but everyone plays along when they do this professional bit. It's not like everyone doesn't know that Janeway and Paris are living like a married couple practically, but somewhere a line of professionalism must be drawn.

"The plan will fail," Seven says. "You underestimate the Borg. The plan needs refining or the Borg will simply win by having superior fire power."

"That's right!" Captain Paris says. "We need a way to weaken the Borg."

Janeway and Captain Paris exchange a glance and Tom knows they've left part of the equation out. He remembers Captain Paris is supposed to die but there has been no talk of that.

"You have a way of weakening the Borg?" Tuvok asks.

"A weapon," Captain Paris says. "A biological weapon that will weaken the Borg from within. One drone can be infected and soon, it will spread."

"You are talking about genocide," Seven says. Everyone looks at her, her taut neck and flashing eyes.

"It will save, in the long run, thousands of lives. Millions," Janeway says.

"At the expense of thousands and millions of lives now," Tom says. He's not the biggest fan of the Borg, but Janeway needs to see both sides of this.

"I have spent my career holding the Borg at bay," Captain Paris says looking at his younger self. "Keeping them at the edges of the system, fighting tirelessly to save my home planet at sometimes immeasurable cost."

"But that hasn't happened yet," Harry says. "What you're describing is something that could happen, not something that has."

"It will," Captain Paris says.

"Not necessarily," Tuvok says.

"By coming here, you already have changed the timeline," B'Elanna points out.

"I promised you all I'd get this ship home," Janeway says, rising. "This is the way to do it."

"Let's take some time," Chakotay says. "Everyone look over the data, make the modifications. Even if we don't go through with it, these modifications will help us. We'll reconvene in six hours and talk again. Dismissed."

Chakotay is better at tempering Janeway than Tom is and it gives Tom no satisfaction. He wants to be the one to take her aside and make her see reason, but instead he eggs her on and pisses her off. Everyone leaves the room except Janeway, Chakotay, and the two Toms. Janeway glances up from her PADD and feigns surprise that there are still three men with her.

"Yes?" she says.

"Kathryn," and as Tom says it, he realizes the other two men have said the same name at the same time. She holds up a hand and has to struggle not to roll her eyes.

"There is a point at which I simply must take control," Janeway says. "I will make a note of your objections and when we get home, it will be me that will have to face up to the things we have done. I understand this."

"Do you?" asks Tom, quietly. "You aren't and island, Captain. If you lose, I lose too."

She softens a bit at this.

"Tom, I... have to put this ship first. We agreed on that."

He is uncomfortable having this conversation in front of anyone. Captain Paris scratches his head in a familiar gesture.

"I'd like a few minutes to speak to the Captain alone," Chakotay says, looking at no one. Tom has little recourse but to leave. Instead of going to the bridge, like he ought to, he leaves through the other door that connects to a corridor which connects to nothing but a lift. He stands with his back against the wall and says nothing when Captain Paris stands next to him. He tries to avoid the older man, but can't any longer.

"It's a good plan," says Captain Paris.

"No," Tom says. "It isn't."

"It will work."

"Those are not the same thing - good and successful," Tom snaps. "I think you are ruining my relationship with her in an effort to save your own and we're both going to lose."

"Tom, listen," Captain Paris says. "Do this. Do this and go home and marry her and have a child and do all the things we couldn't do."

Tom shakes his head and walks into the turbolift, leaving the other man behind. The lift moves sideways for only a moment before depositing him on the bridge. Harry looks at him hard as he passes but Tom says nothing except to relieve the Ensign at the helm and sit hard in his seat.

oooo

In the end, it doesn't really matter. In the end, Janeway doesn't make the final choice because Captain Paris takes his shuttle and flies into Borg space before any of them can find their stations. The little shuttle is fast and advanced and Captain Paris initiates the plan on his own. Janeway stares at the view screen with a stony expression as the shuttle disappears into a flash of light. The space it leaves behind is empty and cold. And though they cannot see the shuttle anymore, it is easy enough to track it to its final destination.

Even if Tom were to kick it into the highest gear, there'd be no way to stop Captain Paris in time, so instead they just sit there, watching their computer screens.

"We may as well take advantage of the situation," Chakotay says. "It's not ideal, but it's happening."

You traitor, Tom thinks.

Janeway looks at Tuvok who understands the unspoken command. He opens a channel.

"All hands," says Janeway. "This is the Captain."

oooo

No one sleeps. They are attacked almost constantly and as soon as they make any sort of repair, another sphere comes along to cause more havoc. Crewman Andrews dies after a conduit explodes in her face. Tom knows now that every time someone dies, Janeway hand writes their name in a paper journal she keeps in her nightstand. Tom feels greasy and unkempt. He knows he looks it too and can feel the day and a half of growth on his chin. Janeway looks at him like she looks at everyone now - as a member of her crew. But she looks past him, past everyone. They are a part of a whole, not a whole themselves. Yes he should worry, and yes, he will, but not until this marathon of sleep deprivation and war is over. He just isn't sure what the ending will be.

But when Captain Paris's message comes, it comes directly to Tom's helm console. iNow,/i it says. Tom doesn't have time to explain and knows what he has to do. It's a sneaky trick, making Tom be the one who has to push the proverbial button and he thinks if this is himself in 30 years, he may never fully learn to love himself.

"Hang on," Tom calls, and pushes it hard. They have a small window to get into the conduit, a smaller window to hide in the damaged sphere, and an even smaller window to ride the wave home. He though when it happened, getting home, he means, he thought it would feel glorious. But he can't even think about the end result, all he can do is take one step at a time. He realizes, as soon as Voyager is inside the damaged sphere, that Janeway is standing beside him with her hand on his shoulder, offering him encouragements and that she has been there for some time.

"Good," she says softly. "Good."

It feels like forever. It feels like they are transwarping for hours, but he knows it's only a few minutes. Janeway's fingers are digging in his shoulder, pinching through the padding there that makes everyone look broad-shouldered and strong.

Tom thinks maybe Harry gets cold feet. He instructs the sphere to exit transwarp a few seconds early. It's hard to tell where they will come out and even inside the sphere, the ride is bumpy and the exit from transwarp jarring. Seven must cling to the railing awkwardly so she is not flung back.

"Report," Janeway demands, sounding a little frantic.

"The sphere is surrounded by eleven ships," Tuvok says. "All federation. They are preparing to fire."

"We gotta get out of here," Tom says under his breath.

"Mr. Tuvok," Janeway says. "Fire."

The sphere comes apart around them and when the burning and wreckage clears, Janeway gasps.


	13. Chapter 13

_Hello loyal readers, you may have noticed that chapter 12 got a little confusing. It got updated with a big chunk missing, whoops! So before you read this one, you may want to go back and give that one another go. Thank you!_

* * *

Mostly, they sleep. There are still a few days of travel yet before they even reach their star system, but the Alpha quadrant is the Alpha quadrant and they are in no position to be choosy. There's about an hour of euphoria and then everyone crashes. Most of the starships have broken off formation and now they are just flanked by two - the Bonaparte and the Xavier, the latter which carries Admiral Paris. Tom leaves Janeway to speak to the brass and his father and goes to their quarters to crash. He doesn't even bother to undress or shower, he just lies on top of the covers and falls asleep.

He wakes up way too soon to Janeway's hand on his shoulder.

"Honey," she says. "Tom."

"Hmm," he says. He doesn't want to open his eyes but she keeps nudging him until he peels his lids back.

"What?"

"Do you want to see your dad?" she asks. He has to think for a moment. It doesn't sound right.

"What about the medical quarantine?" he asks.

"Screw it," she says. "I'll bring him aboard."

"I want," he says, pulling her down. "To sleep for another hour and then a shower and a meal and then, yes, I think I would like to see my dad."

"I don't think I can sleep," she whispers. They are both speaking quietly, like they know most of the ship is a sleep - like if they're loud, somehow this all won't be real. She settles against him and he closes his eyes again. "Honey?"

He grunts.

"Are you mad at me?"

"About what?" he asks.

"About, you know, siding with the older... going through with the plan."

"I went through with it too," he says. "You didn't start it and you didn't finish it. In the end, it was only me. And when the brass asks you that, you tell them, okay?" he says, rolling over to face her. "You don't take the blame for this."

"I can't worry about it yet," she says. "I just need to float in this feeling for a while."

"Then let's float," he says.

oooo

Showered and shaved, Tom eats the sandwich she makes for him as they head for the transporter room. In the corridors, people are jubilant. Lieutenant Van Hausen sees the Captain and her face splits into a grin.

"Today is my birthday," she gushes. "Captain, thank you!" She throws her arms around Janeway who only hugs her back. "Thank you."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Janeway says, her eyes already brimming. Tom smiles at her when Ensign Van Hausen hurries down the hall.

"Shall I remind you of this the next time you're grumpy?" he asks.

"Come on, we're already keeping him waiting," she says, hurrying toward the transporter room. When they walk in, she looks him over and brushes the crumbs off his front before nodding to the crewman manning the room. "Engage."

"I don't even get a minute to compose myself?" he asks but the light is already shimmering and then he's there, Owen Paris, in the flesh and Tom realizes that Owen never did have the chance to respond to Tom's confession about his relationship with Janeway and now there's nothing to do but brace himself.

"Hey Dad," says Tom.

"Hello, Son," Owen says. "Hello, Kathryn."

"Hello, Admiral," Janeway says.

Owen steps off the transporter pad and stands in front of Tom. He opens his arms and Tom hugs his father for the first time in well over seven years. And when the hard grip is released, Owen hugs Janeway.

"Katie Janeway," he says. "Thank you for returning my son to me."

"You're welcome," she says. When he lets go, she looks over at the console. "You're relieved," she says. The crewman wastes no time in leaving.

"You know I can't visit the wider ship and I can only stay for a moment," Owen says. "Protocol."

"We know," Tom says. "Dad, about my message..."

"What message?" he asks. Tom pauses.

"You didn't get my message? In the last data stream?" Tom asks, slowly.

"Part of the stream was truncated, we lost about 14 percent," Owen says. "I'm sorry I missed a note from you."

Tom glances at Janeway who straightens her spine. Owen Paris has no idea about their relationship.

"Never mind that now," Janeway says quickly. "There isn't much time."

"Kathryn, you'll get your encrypted briefing within the hour," Admiral Paris says. "In the mean time, the first step is to dock this old, tired girl at Deep Space Five and expedite your medical clearances."

"I'd like for Dr. Crusher to oversee our clearance," Tom says firmly. Both Kathryn and his father look at him with a somewhat shocked expressions.

"Excuse me?" Janeway says.

"Son, Dr. Crusher is the head of Starfleet Medical," Owen says. "And if I'm not mistaken, I think she's on a tour with the Enterprise right now."

"Where is the Enterprise?" Tom asks.

"You're serious about this request, Mr. Paris?" Janeway asks. This is the first she's heard of it and she can't fathom why Tom would ask for it.

"Dad, if it's possible, please consider it a favor," Tom says.

"I'll see what I can do," Owen promises. He hesitates for only a moment before hugging his son again. "I've got to go, but I'll see you both on the station soon."

Tom watches him step back on the platform as Janeway moves around to facilitate the transport cycle. As soon as Owen disappears, Janeway looks at him with her hands on her hips.

"What the hell was that?" she asks.

"I just... want the best for us," he says. "We've been without updated care for a long time and I just think we need an expert to process us."

"Updated care," she repeats. "I wouldn't let the Doctor hear you say this."

"I respect the Doc!" he argues. "I just care about Voyager."

"Fine," she says and he expels the air in his lungs with relief. "If you don't want to tell me the truth now, fine, but I'm going to find out eventually."

He groans.

oooo

"I know you want to celebrate," Janeway says, addressing the whole crew. Her voice is piped over every comm line and her image projected into every display. All over, people are watching her final address. "I want to celebrate too, but our work isn't done yet."

Tom watches her live, in person, from the bridge. In a few moments they will dock Voyager at Deep Space Five. In fact, he will be the one to dock the ship.

"We have to be cleared of our medical quarantine first and foremost. I'd like to be able to tell you where you will go and what will happen with your career but I can't. I know that after deep space missions there is a mandatory six week leave period. We might even get longer. I hope you all get the rest you deserve. Finally, this. Remember that we on Voyager are a family and families stick together and support one another. If you ever need help, please don't hesitate to ask for it from me or any of your fellow crew. It has been a pleasure to serve with each and every one of you. Janeway out."

She looks at Tom with glassy eyes.

"Take her in, Tom."

Deep Space Five requests the crewmen first - they start low so after a day, there is only a skeleton crew on board of the highest ranking officers and the people who Janeway considers herself personally responsible for - Seven of Nine, Neelix, and those who they have picked up along the way... and the Doctor who is mid-meltdown on the future of his very existence. Tom suggests early on that the Doctor stay out of Voyager's systems and completely in his mobile emitter. If they need to, they'll shut him down and pocket him away until they know how his acquired humanity is going to shake out with the brass.

"He's a member of my crew," Janeway says. "He doesn't need to hide."

"You don't think they'll want to decompile him to see how his program has coped and expanded past anything anyone ever dreamed? I'm not an engineer and I find it fascinating," Tom argues.

"Okay," she relents. "I'll keep him close."

They are in their quarters, packing. Voyager has never belonged to Janeway, the ship has always belonged to Starfleet and now Janeway must hand the ship over without asking questions, no matter how bad it feels to do so. The official crew manifest shows that they share quarters and already most of Voyager's database has been transmitted or is still transmitting ahead to Jupiter Station for analysis. They are not hiding their relationship, there's no point trying to do so. Why ask everyone on Voyager to lie for them?

Tom folds Janeway's night things into a storage container and puts his sweaters on top of them. Between them, they don't have a lot of civilian clothing, but they have a lot of red and black uniforms.

"Maybe we should just recycle all this stuff and start again," he says. "These uniforms aren't even regulation anymore."

"Maybe," she says, but he can tell she doesn't want that.

"Have you thought about where we will go?" he asks.

"No," she says. "I mean, yes, but I don't have an answer."

"I never even had a home when we left," he says. "I had a cell."

"I had a house," she says, collecting picture frames and wrapping them in her t-shirts so they don't break in the move. "I believe my ex-fiance and his wife live there now."

"Do you want... to get some place together?" he asks.

"Honey," she says, coming over to him. "If we've learned anything in the last few weeks, is it not that we're going to get married?"

"Just because... I mean, that was one version of what could happen... and I didn't want to think that..."

"You don't want to marry me," she says.

"No! I mean, yes, I do, but don't you think it's a little..." He sighs and rubs his hands over his face. "I think it's too soon and I don't want to marry you just because someone told us it happens."

"I don't want that either," she says. "But I do want to live with you. I want to pack our stuff together and get a place together and have it be our place, not my quarters."

"Where?" he asks.

"We'll get fleet housing while they process us," she says. "One step at a time."

"One step at a time," he repeats.

oooo

Tom volunteers to stay on Voyager with Janeway while the replacement crew beams over. There needs to be two people on the bridge from the previous crew to officially transfer command over to the station repair crew. Janeway sits in her chair, swallowing and swallowing. Since the ship is docked, Tom sits next to her instead of at the dark helm. They are holding hands.

"I'm happy you got us home," he says, softly. "But I would've been happy spending the rest of my life on this ship with you."

With her free hand, she wipes away quickly the tear that falls.

It's almost time now.

oooo

Owen is waiting for the last two people to disembark with another admiral and a vice-admiral. Most of their belongings have been beamed into storage at the station but Tom carries a duffel bag on his shoulder and another one in his hand for the Captain. Admiral Paris looks proud, but doesn't smile and doesn't hug either of them again with this company.

"Captain," he greets. "Lieutenant Paris, I take it the transfer went well?"

"Yes, sir," Janeway says, which is weird to hear for Tom, hearing Janeway address someone as a superior. "Thank you."

"Please, come this way," the Vice-Admiral says. "Dr. Crusher is waiting for you in the medical bay."

Janeway glances at Tom, her face both curious and stern.

"I'll be waiting for you when you complete your check-ups," Owen says. "I was hoping, son, we could have dinner? You too, Kathryn."

"Of course, Sir," Tom says. "And thank you, sir, for requesting Dr. Crusher on my behalf."

"Don't thank me," Owen says. "Thank Captain Picard. He was reluctant to loan her out."

"I'll be sure to," Tom says.

Dr. Crusher is sitting at the desk in the medical bay, alone. She is striking - Tom has never met her before, or seen her, but her hair is long and red and she sits up smiling when she sees them arrive.

"The final two, I presume," she says. "I'm Beverly Crusher."

"Kathryn Janeway," Janeway replies, holding out her hand.

"Tom Paris," Tom says.

"Ah, so you're the one who asked for me," she says. "I'm fascinated as to hear the reason why. But business first, I suppose."

"You're doing the exams yourself?" Janeway asks.

"I sent my nurses home a little while ago," Dr. Crusher says. "Only two left, after all. Lieutenant, why don't we start with you?"

Tom is healthy, of course, and he feels fine. When she asks for Janeway, Dr. Crusher looks at Tom expectantly when he doesn't move.

"I'd like to stay," he says. She raises her eyebrows high and when Janeway doesn't protest, she winks at him.

"I see," she says.

"Dr. Crusher," Tom says. "Are you aware of the temporal prime directive?"

"I knew it!" Janeway blurts. "I knew all this had something to do with all that."

"Excuse me?" Dr. Crusher asks.

"Tom, I can't believe you pulled this woman away from her ship because someone who doesn't exist anymore made you..."

"Hang on, hang on," Tom says. "I just wanted the best mind in Starfleet to take a look at you, what could it hurt?"

"I'm fine," Janeway says, and looks at Dr. Crusher. "I'm fine."

"Why don't we start from the beginning," Dr. Crusher says, leaning her hip against the bed and crossing her arms.

"About a year ago, Captain Janeway was shot with an alien weapon," Tom says, ignoring the protesting noises Janeway makes. "It wiped her memory clean."

Dr. Crusher busies herself pulling up Janeway's more extensive medical files.

"I see," she says, leaning in to take a closer look.

"And I have reason to believe that this may affect her later on in life."

"I am so mad at you," Janeway says under her breath, though everyone hears it quite clearly.

"Well, from these scans it's hard to say," Dr. Crusher says. "What do you say I give Captain Janeway her exam and take fresh scans. I'll take a look at them."

"I feel fine," she grumbles.

"That's all I ask," Tom says. "Thank you so much. So much."

"Don't thank me yet," Dr. Crusher says.

"I'll be out in the hall, hon," Tom says.

Janeway doesn't reply except to set her jaw more firmly.

"It can't hurt to take a closer look, Captain," Dr. Crusher says, laughter in her voice.

"It won't hurt me or you," she says maliciously.

"You got your crew home!" Dr. Crusher says, running the tricorder over her. "You brought your ship back. Shouldn't you get a few hours of celebration before your first Alpha Quadrant fight?"

"Oh, to live in a world where this would be our first Alpha Quadrant fight," Janeway sighs. "Unfortunately, I've been fighting with Tom since he was sixteen."

Dr. Crusher raises her eyebrows.

"Well, that came out sounding wrong," Janeway says. "I just mean, I worked with his father."

"Captain Janeway..."

"Kathryn," Janeway offers.

"Kathryn, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but most of the federation knows you worked with Admiral Paris. In fact, they knew everything public record about you. When we discovered that Voyager was out there and struggling to get home, you became a bit of a minor celebrity," Dr. Crusher says.

"This is a joke, right?" Janeway says.

"Hey, look at the upside. You have a partner who is looking out for you," Dr. Crusher says. "Who is adorable and so very young."

"We haven't... ah... no one outside of the crew knows..."

"Well I'd start telling," Dr. Crusher says. "Because you're about to be picked apart by the media."

"I see."

"You seem fine, Captain. I'm going to authorize your medical release, but I'm not headed back to the Enterprise for two days so I'm going to look at these scans. I'd like to see you again tomorrow to talk about them."

"And if you find nothing?" Janeway asks, sitting up.

"Then it will be a short meeting," Dr. Crusher says. "Anyway, your public awaits. You're free and clear. Welcome home, Captain."

"Thank you," she says.

Tom is indeed waiting for her in the hallway, holding a PADD and looking for more hopeful than he had any right too.

"I got our lodging assignments," he says. Maybe he hopes to skip right over the fight, but he is only delaying it. She grabs the PADD from his hand and tosses it on the chair behind him.

"I want to know everything," she says.

"Kathryn, I really don't think this is the place to have this conversation."

"Conversation?" she exclaims. "It's not a conversation, it's you, right now telling me everything you know that I don't about my health."

"Is that an order, ma'am?" he asks.

"You know what? Screw you," she says. "Screw you for lying to me for all this time."

"All this time?" he says. "Lying to you? You say all the time that temporal mechanics and paradoxes give you a headache. You're the one who said the less you know the better. But I didn't have a choice and, if you recall, Captain, I didn't want to go through with this plan at all. Do you even care that we just crippled a race to the point where they may never recover?"

"It's the Borg," Janeway says. "I hope they never do!"

"Let's be sure to write that in our next letter to Seven," Tom says.

"No, you're right," she says. "I don't like hurting other cultures but this is a culture that sure didn't mind hurting us and I would be foolish to let the opportunity to get home pass by me again."

"That's all I'm doing," Tom says. "I'm just making sure an opportunity doesn't pass me by. I didn't create this situation, but it's here and I'm seizing it."

Janeway sits down and rests her head against her hands. Tom sits next to her.

"Tom, I'm tired," she says. "I don't want to do this anymore."

"I'm tired too," he says. "Babe, this is everything I know. I know that I was supposed to get Dr. Crusher to look at you and that if I waited for 24 years to do it, it would be too late. I don't know what too late means, exactly, but I don't want to find out, do you?"

She shakes her head.

"Other than that...." He shrugs. "I know what you know."

"Okay," she says.

"Look," he says, picking up the PADD again. "They put us in the same section. Let's go, okay? Let's go lay down and rest for a while before we have to get started with whatever comes next."

"We're supposed to have dinner with your father," she mentions. "And I'm sure I'm supposed to go into a briefing after this."

"Already?" he asks.

"Already." He frowns. "What's your room?" she asks. "I'll be there for dinner."

He hands her the PADD containing their assignments. "See you later."

"See you later," she says, and kisses his cheek.

oooo

She's late for dinner. Owen offers to call her and excuse her from the appointment but Tom convinces him otherwise.

"She wanted to be here," Tom says, again. "I really think she should be here."

"If you say so," Owen says. Tom's guest quarters are smaller than his quarters on Voyager, but there's a bed and a table so it's fine. Owen offered to take them to dinner in one of the restaurants aboard the station, but Tom knows they need to tell Owen about their relationship before too much time passes. He doesn't want to do that in a crowd of people staring at them. Already twice today he's heard someone say, "One of the Voyagers!" as he passed. He thought it would be fun to have a little notoriety but in reality, it makes him feel paranoid. "Your sisters both messaged," Owen says.

"How are they?" Tom asks. His sisters are both quite a bit older than him. Mary is ten years older and Kathleen is eight years older.

"Good. They want to see you, they're going to come to Earth."

"I'm glad."

"Kathleen has a little girl," Owen says. "Sosie. And Patrick is fifteen now."

"Fifteen," Tom says.

"Fifteen," Owen says. "Mary has started to go gray a little. She looks like your mother more and more."

"I bet," Tom says, softly.

The door chimes and Tom looks up, at first surprised that Janeway didn't just marge in as usual but then he remembers that she doesn't have the code or access to his room.

"That's probably Kathryn," Tom says, standing up. Owen raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

"I'm so sorry," Janeway says when he opens the door. "I'm late, I know."

"It's okay," Tom says. "I'm great at small talk with my dad." He speaks under his breath.

"Is that her?" Owen calls.

"It's me, sir," she says. "Sorry."

"It's all right," Owen says. "Have a seat. Tom was just about to replicate dinner and then you can tell me all about how you're sleeping together."

Tom and Janeway freeze and stare at him. Tom manages to recover first.

"Dad, I..."

"It's okay, it's okay," Owen says.

"I thought we were going to tell him together," Janeway says.

"I didn't tell him," Tom says.

"Your fantastic acting jobs aside," Owen says sarcastically, "The first thing we do is check over the roster for casualties and you're listed as sharing quarters."

"Sir, I was going to file the proper paperwork, but then we got home before the next data stream came around, so..."

"Is she going to lose her commission?" Tom asks.

"Please," Owen says. "Kathryn, you'd have to do far worse than my son for such drastic measures."

"Thank you?" Tom says.

"It will complicate things, of course, but you were out there alone for so long that I'm sure things of this nature will be overlooked."

"Overlooked," Janeway repeats.

"Kathryn," Owen says. "You've always been like a daughter to me, now we can just make it official."

"Official," Tom says. "I don't..."

"I do," Janeway says. "Your father is encouraging a wedding."

"It would make many problems go away," Owen says.

"Dad," Tom says. "I don't think that's a good enough reason to get married."

"They're going to start the inquiry in a few weeks," Janeway says. "We'd have to get married before that and it isn't a lot of time."

"It would be a sacrifice," Owen concedes.

"Stop it!" Tom says. "I don't want my marriage to be a power play or something that has to do with our careers. Kathryn, I want to marry you but not like this."

"Okay," she says. "You're right. We'll deal with any problems that come up. I know I broke the rules."

"I'm not even hungry anymore," Tom says, disgusted. Owen stands up.

"The Xavier is leaving in the morning. I was hoping you would come with us," Owen says and he speaks to both of them. "The Voyager crew can of course use more conventional means to return to their home planets, but on the Xavier, we'll be on Earth in two days. Kathryn, have you spoken with your mother yet?"

"Ah, not yet," she responds.

"Come with us," Owen says. "You aren't going to have a lot of time before Starfleet will want some questions answered."

"Of course, sir," Kathryn says.

"Goodnight, then," he says. "I'll see you on board in the morning."

"Goodnight," says Tom softly. When they are alone, he faces Kathryn. "You were going to do it there for a second, weren't you?"

"Do what?"

"Marry me to save yourself some paperwork."

"Tom, that isn't true," she says. "I may lose my commission for this and I was simply considering the Admiral's point of view."

"You think you're going to lose your commission for sleeping with me?"

"It's a possibility," is all she says.

"You're worried about losing yours and I'm worried about having one at all," he says. "What a pair."

"I'm going to fight for my crew," Janeway says. "I want everyone to keep their commissions."

"I..." Tom is interrupted by the door chiming. "Maybe he forgot something."

But at the door isn't his father, it's Chakotay and Seven.

"Is Kathryn here?" Chakotay asks.

"Come on in," Tom says. Not five minutes later, Neelix arrives and then Harry until most of the senior staff is in their temporary quarters. Tom and Harry push what little bit of furniture there is closer together so they can all have a seat. Janeway fishes out the Doctor's emitter from within her bag and activates it.

He looks around.

"Nice to see I haven't been decompiled," he says. "Have they asked about me?"

"Not yet," Janeway says. "We're on Deep Space Five."

"When do we return to Earth?" the Doctor asks.

"Tom and I are going tomorrow," she admits. "On the Xavier with Admiral Paris."

"There are three shuttles a day that leave for Earth's solar system from this station," Seven says. "Over half of the Voyager crew have already reserved seats on these shuttles."

"I have," Harry says. "B'Elanna has too."

"What about you?" Janeway asks Chakotay.

"Haven't made any plans yet," he admits. "I wanted to see if I could be of any service to you."

"Frankly I'm not sure what's going to happen," Janeway says. "We have some leave but I imagine that I'll receive news from Starfleet sooner or later."

"Sooner," Tom says. "I'd wager."

"Captain," Seven says. "I would prefer to travel with you to Earth."

"I'd like to stay with you, too," Neelix says.

Janeway glances at Tom who shrugs.

"I'll ask Admiral Paris if he'll allow us passage on the Xavier," Janeway says. "If not, I'm sure we can arrange a transport traveling a parallel course."

The door chimes again.

"By all means, come on in," Tom calls. When the doors opens, Dr. Crusher steps in, looking with mild surprise at everyone in the small room.

"Dr. Crusher," Janeway says. "What is it?"

"Captain," she says. "We need to talk about your brain."


	14. Chapter 14

"You're Dr. Crusher," the Doctor says. Tom tries to stand in front of him - technically he isn't even supposed to be here but back as part of Voyager's systems, but the Doctor shoves Tom aside.

"Yes," Dr. Crusher says. "You're the Mark One?"

"I'm Voyager's Emergency Medical Hologram," he says, only a little stiffly.

"Doctor," Janeway says warningly.

"It's all right," Dr. Crusher says. "I don't work for the review board. Do you have a moment, Captain?"

"Sure," she says.

"Doc, why don't you go too. You're the most familiar with the Captain's medical records," Tom says. The Doctor nods and Tom deactivates him and hands the emitter to Janeway before she and Dr. Crusher step out into the hall. Everyone looks at Tom for explanation but it isn't his to give. "I'll ask Admiral Paris about the Xavier."

When he is finally alone, he sits on the edge of the narrow bed with his head in his hands. Getting home is not glamorous, he realizes, but a series of small tests. Eventually they will come to the point where this is better than the alternative, but right now it just seems like everything happening is designed to try his patience. Eventually, when Kathryn doesn't come back, he goes to sleep.

oooo

"Tom?"

"In here," he calls, hefting his bag back over his shoulder. "You ready?"

"Yeah."

She's waiting for him. They're a couple minutes behind schedule, but that matters more now than on Voyager where the schedule was just a way to try to make their lives seem normal. In the Alpha Quadrant, the schedule means the ship will leave without them if they don't pick it up. They hurry down the hallway, following the signs that lead to the correct loading bay. When they get there, Neelix and Seven are already waiting and Chakotay comes in a few seconds after they do.

"Remind me to thank your father for the passage," Neelix says. He's just as excited about Earth as anyone. To him, it's a new planet to see.

"Perhaps a nice greeting card," Tom suggests, wryly. An Ensign waves them through the portal.

Tom, Janeway, and Chakotay are all wearing new uniforms this morning and while perfectly functional, it feels strange. For the last seven years, Tom felt defined by red and black, but now they are in a sea of gray shoulders. The new jacket makes Janeway's shoulders look more broad and her waist even tinier. She doesn't say anything about the change, doesn't say anything about sleeping in separate quarters the night before. Only when they are in the Xavier's social lounge, settling in for the long ride, does he start asking questions.

"Are you going to tell me what Dr. Crusher had to say?" he asks.

"Do I need to?" she asks, sipping a mug of coffee. "You seem to have all the answers already, Lieutenant."

"Oh good," Tom says, leaning back. "I so wanted to begin this day with a fight."

"I'm not fighting," she says. "Just stating facts."

"Kathryn, you are many things but passive aggressive is not one of them and I like that about you, so will you please drop this and tell me what happened?"

"Lieutenant," she says. "We are in a public place on an unknown ship. Not only do I not want to share with you what my medical condition is, I'd appreciate it if you would refer to me by my proper rank."

"Yes, Ma'am," he says, through clenched teeth. She's smirks, totally enjoying herself. Chakotay and Seven come in and seat themselves at the table.

"Where's Mr. Neelix?" Janeway asks.

"Making friends with the natives," Chakotay says. "He got a few lower-ranked crewmen to give him a tour."

"Of course he did," Janeway says. She offers Chakotay her cup of coffee and he takes a sip. It took Tom a while to get used to her level of intimacy with her first officer. Chakotay is her best friend and while sometimes Tom wished it wasn't so, he realized early on that it was silly to fight it.

"Have you spoken to your mother yet?" Chakotay asks, handing the mug back.

"Not yet," Janeway says, glancing at Tom who furrows his brow.

"We have an hour before we have to do anything," Tom says. "Don't you think you ought to call?"

"Yes," she says, uneasily.

"Do you not get along with your mother?" Seven inquires.

"I get along with her just fine," Janeway says.

"Don't you think it's agonizing for her to know you're home but hear nothing from you?" Chakotay says.

"Fine, fine!" Janeway says. "I'm going."

But seated in front of a viewscreen on a borrowed desk in a borrowed room, Janeway hesitates. So _much_ has happened. Where on Earth could she possibly start?

Gathering what depleted bits of courage she has left, she keys in the code that will ring her mother. Part of her hopes that Gretchen Janeway is not at home, that she will be forced to leave a message and that seeing her daughter's face will be enough for the moment, but Gretchen has been waiting for this call for sometime and answers rather quickly.

"Kathryn," Gretchen says, her eyes already filling with tears. "Is that you?"

"Hi Mom," she says, and is surprised to find her own tears rushing out as well. "It's me."

Gretchen looks older, but that goes both ways, Janeway knows. Her mother doesn't look bad, but she's completely gray now and carries more lines in her face. She looks tired.

"I knew you'd be calling," Gretchen says. "And I know better than to ask what has been happening but oh, my love, it is good to see your face."

"You too," Janeway says. "I want to come see you. We're going to reach Earth tomorrow and, if they'll let me, I'd like to come see you."

"I can come to San Francisco," Gretchen says. "The families, they'll be meeting your crew at... well, the first transport isn't supposed to arrive until the weekend, but of course you'd come first."

"San Francisco, then," Janeway agrees. "I'm going to send you the details."

"All right."

"Mom, there's... so much to say, but I don't want to do it like this."

"I know," she says. Gretchen reaches out to the screen with her fingers and touches where her daughter's face must be. "I thought I was never going to see you again."

"That's not my style," Janeway says. "Until tomorrow?"

"Until tomorrow."

oooo

When they step onto the planet, Janeway has to fight the urge to drop to her knees and kiss the soil. Chakotay, though human, isn't exactly from Earth and both Seven and Neelix has never seen it before. And while Earth is Tom's home, he had been happier on Voyager than on this planet, so Janeway feels somewhat isolated in her dizzying relief. Tom opens his hand on the small of her back just briefly. It brings her back to the moment. They are standing outside of the transport station in the heart of Starfleet headquarters and people are snapping their picture. This is news, this moment. Janeway plasters a smile on her face and the subtle hand disappears.

Just because they have been gone for some time, just because they were declared lost, doesn't change what happens now.

"What happens now?" Neelix asks, as if reading her mind.

"Bureaucracy," Tom says before she has a chance to offer.

"We have to change our status back," Chakotay says. "Register with headquarters that we are back on Earth and awaiting new orders."

"For now, they'll put us on leave," Janeway says. "And then eventually, we'll all be issued orders that will be, I imagine, to appear before a review board."

"When?" Seven asks.

"I'm not sure, exactly," Janeway says, squinting into the setting sun. Seven has a jacket with a hood to help hide her facial implants. She wears her hair down. Instead of her normal attire, she has replicated slacks and a blouse at the Captain's urging. Janeway doesn't know, exactly, what Starfleet will have to say about Seven but until that day comes, Janeway wants her to stay off the grid. "At any rate," she continues. "I'll be first."

"I have a house," Chakotay says. "I think Seven and Neelix should go there and wait it out. Until HQ officially demands their presence somewhere, no reason to stay here."

"Good idea, Commander," Janeway says. "Seven, take the Doctor with you." She takes the mobile emitter out of her pocket and Seven tucks it away. "This is Earth, and I do trust Starfleet but this isn't the same place we left seven years ago."

"The Dominion War?" Seven asks.

"That's certainly part of it," Chakotay agrees.

"We're a crew," Janeway says. "I think we should stick together no matter what until all of this gets sorted."

"Of course, Captain," Neelix says. She turns to him, puts her hands on his shoulders and gives him a smile.

"Neelix," she says. "Technically, Starfleet has no jurisdiction over you. You're not a member of the federation and the moment I relinquished command of Voyager, any role I'd bestowed upon you was considered terminated. If you want, you can walk away free and clear. Starfleet will probably want to speak with you. They'll probably summon you but you don't have to attend anything. If you want to disappear for a while, if you want to make your own way starting right now, I wouldn't hold it against you."

He brings his hands up to her wrists and pulls a very serious expression.

"I want to be where you are," he says. "I want to stay until I know my family is going to be all right." And then, he leans in and kisses her cheek.

"Thank you," she whispers.

"Okay, okay," Tom says. "Don't think I don't know exactly what you're doing here, Neelix. Break it up."

Everyone chuckles, and Neelix steps back with his hands up as if to say, 'you've caught me.'

"Go on ahead," Chakotay says. "I'll make sure they get where they need to be and meet you there."

As Tom and Janeway walk away, Janeway leans in and asks him something that has been plaguing her for weeks.

"Do you think Seven and Chakotay are sleeping together?"

"Yep," Tom says. "Where were you when we all figured that out?"

"I have no idea," she says.

oooo

Janeway receives her orders not via transmission but from a real human being. A young cadet with black hair and green eyes hands her a PADD and asks for her thumbprint in return. It is, after all, a military operation and ritual must be observed.

"What's it say?" Tom asks. They are in Starfleet temporary housing, which is somewhere between a very inexpensive hotel and a prison cell. Janeway is impressed they came so swiftly. She is dressing to go meet her mother - they have been planet side for only hours. Just long enough to eat, sleep, and shower.

Janeway has not invited Tom along, but when it is time to go, he offers to walk with her and she gratefully accepts.

"Two weeks, plus a week for medical leave," Janeway says. "It isn't long." Dr. Crusher had found a virus that the Doctor had missed. For now it was dormant but to remove it require a delicate set of treatments.

"You're lucky we found this," Dr. Crusher had said.

"How long before senior staff gets summoned?" he asks now.

"A month," she predicts. "Everyone? Three months."

"And then what happens?" he wonders.

She just shrugs. He is tempted to take her hand but he thinks she'd avoid it here in public.

"Babe," he says. "If you want me to disappear when your mom arrives, just say so."

"I want you to stay," she says.

"You want me to stay because you love me or you want me to stay because you're scared of her?"

"Both." No point in lying after all. Tom has learned to stretch and twist the truth less - Janeway champions honesty.

"Okay."

At the station, Tom still waits outside while Janeway goes in to meet Gretchen. Tom thinks they should have a moment , maybe two, alone. Tom stands by a retaining wall, leans against the cement and looks at the blue, clear sky. Birds sing, trees sway - it's spring in San Francisco. Janeway's birthday is next week.

Finally, the women emerge arm in arm; both look as if they've been weeping. Tom straightens up, tugging down the tunic of the unfamiliar uniform. Janeway flashes him a smile, a small token of reassurance.

"Mom," she says. "You remember Tom Paris?"

"Owen's boy," she says. "Why, I haven't seen you since you were... I don't know, six years old."

"Yes, Ma'am," he says. "How are you?"

"How am I?" she laughs. "How are you? You and Kathryn were on that ship for... Goodness, aren't you glad to be home?"

"Yes Ma'am," he says, smiling. "Captain Janeway fought hard to get us here."

"Mom," Janeway says. "Tom and I are..." She struggles for a moment and glances at him.

"Engaged," Tom says, softly. Janeway's eyes widen for a moment, but she doesn't argue.

"Engaged?" Gretchen says, looking at her daughter for confirmation. "You and Owen Paris's boy are engaged?"

"Yes," Janeway says.

"To be married?"

"Mother."

"Yes Ma'am," Tom says, grinning.

"You're going to marry Owen Paris's boy?" Gretchen says and bursts out laughing.

"What?" Janeway asks.

"Your father is positively spinning in his grave right now," Gretchen says, wiping her eyes. "I've never seen a grudge like Eddie had for your father, Tom."

"I see," Tom says, uneasily.

"But I have no grudge," Gretchen says, taking Tom's hand.

"Thank you," Tom says.

"Now," Gretchen says, facing her daughter. "Let's go get something to eat and you can show me the ring."

"Ahh," says Janeway. "No ring yet."

"No ring?" Gretchen asks.

"We had rations!" Tom says. "I... and Kathryn is so hard to... you know, rations."

"I see," Gretchen says.

"Mom, let's go to lunch. We can talk about it more. I mean, there's so much to talk about so let's go. That deli you like is still just a few blocks away," Janeway says.

When they are seated, Gretchen takes the ring off her finger and holds it out to Tom who is sitting next to Janeway across from her.

"Take it," she urges. Tom does as he is told. "Eddie gave this to me when I was 22. It belonged to his great-grandmother. It wasn't replicated, it was made by human hands. I think Kathryn should wear it."

"Mom, that's your wedding ring," Janeway says.

"Now it's yours," Gretchen says smiling.

oooo

"I love your Mom," Tom says, happily. They are in bed in their small, crappy rental.

"Me too," Janeway says, drowsily. It's late and she's half asleep. Still, he can see the ring on her finger in the low light and the sight fills him with something warm. "But you know, just because you panicked and jumped the gun-"

"Jumped the gun!?"

"Doesn't mean we're getting married tomorrow," she finishes.

"I didn't jump the gun and I didn't panic! You panicked, Kathryn," Tom says. She sits up, never a good sign.

"You were the one who didn't want to get married right away in the first place," she points out.

"I didn't want to marry you because it would appease Starfleet, I didn't want to marry you because my dad told me to," he says. "I didn't want to marry you because some asshole with my face said it was supposed to happen."

"Well," she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I do, however, want to marry you because I love you."

"Well." She says it again, but her tone has changed from defensiveness to sounding almost pleased.

"Good," he says, pulling her back down against him.

"My mother is going to try to get me in a white dress," she whispers. "But I won't have it."

He chuckles.

"Why not?"

"I'm too old for that now," she says. "I just want to wear a dress uniform."

"What do the new dress uniforms even look like?" Tom wonders. She laughs into his skin.

"I have no idea," she says. "But it's gotta be better than a while dress."

oooo

"Lieutenant Paris?"

Tom looks up to see a pretty dark-haired woman lingering in the doorway. He stands to greet her - even if she didn't outrank him, he would have stood.

"Yes," he says.

"My name is Deanna Troi," she says. "I'm the ships counselor."

"Yes, Ma'am," he says.

He has been aboard the Enterprise for just under twelve hours. He and Janeway have traveled to the flagship to begin her treatment. Technically they are still on leave and until that leave has ended, the federation will, for the most part, leave them be. Janeway believes they are using this time to sift through Voyager's data and prepare an attack. That's how she sees it, anyway. She thinks she has bent the rules too many times and now she is about to face the music. Tom doesn't believe this is the case. He agrees - Starfleet is probably going over every detail with a fine-tooth comb but not to condemn anyone, but to understand.

It is odd how Tom has, lately, become the optimist.

"Dr. Crusher asked me to wait with you," Counselor Troi says. "I believe the procedure is going to take some time."

"She told me it wasn't very dangerous," Tom says.

"I don't think it is," Counselor Troi agrees. "Just time consuming to locate... well, to tell you the truth she explained it to me, but I don't really know what she's doing."

"Me either," Tom says, smiling.

"Have you been aboard the Enterprise before?" Counselor Troi asks.

"No," he says.

"Let me give you a tour," Troi says. "It really is a spectacular ship. It'd be a shame to spend all your time in this waiting room."

"I just... I want to be there when she's..."

"I know," Troi says. "You will be."

He follows her because she seems kind and in charge and he is so, so worried.

"She really is going to be all right." Troi sounds certain. "Dr. Crusher is a wonderful doctor, you know."

"So I've been told," he says. They move easily through the ship. The ship itself is enormous, but she doesn't even glance at the walls when they pass display panels. "Where are we going?"

"Ten forward," she says. "You look like you could use a drink."

"I'm okay," he says.

"Really, you don't have to worry," she says.

"Why do you think I'm so worried?" he probes as they step onto the turbolift.

"I can tell," she says, as if sharing a secret. "I'm an empath."

"Ah," he says.

"But even if I couldn't, I am a counselor and I would still know," she says. They step off the turbolift and she takes off down the hall so he follows. "This is ten forward."

"It's..." he says as they go through the doors. "Your mess hall?"

"You could say that," she laughs. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Coffee," he says. "Black."

"Sure," she says. He looks around at all the unfamiliar faces around him, a variety of species but all native to the Alpha Quadrant. He didn't think he was going to see such a sight again, at least not as a young man.

Troi sets a mug of coffee in front of him. She has what appears to be hot chocolate.

"Thank you," he says. "So, Counselor Troi. Tell me what else I'm feeling."

Her laughter is tinkling, like small bells and her eyes crinkle delightfully when she smiles.

"That's cheating," she chides. "Besides, this isn't an official session. I'm just keeping you company."

"Company," he repeats.

"Oh, all right," she says. "Perhaps I ought to confess. I feel as if I know many of the Voyager crew already. Or rather, know someone who feels like they know you."

"Now you've lost me," he says.

"Reg Barclay? The one who started the data streams," she says. "He used to be stationed on the Enterprise."

"Right, right," Tom says. "He used holo-recreations of the crew to... I read that anyway. There's all these news articles about Voyager now. Most of them are not accurate but there's a lot of the story we didn't know. The parts that were happening over here. Kathryn... Captain Janeway, I mean, doesn't read them. She's probably better for it."

"Reg is a good man. He simply has unorthodox methods," she says. "And anyway, the media has to write about our side of the story, as the details of yours haven't really been released yet."

"Captain Janeway..."

"Kathryn," Troi supplies with a smile.

"She goes into her first debriefing in a little over a week," Tom says. "I'm sure the truth will start to rear it's head before too long."

"I'm sure," she says.

"It was nice of Captain Picard to put off your next mission for us," Tom says.

"Dr. Crusher has his ear," Troi says. "And I believe Captain Janeway and Commander Riker are old friends."

"Really?" Tom asks.

"From the academy," she says. "As Will tells it, she stood him up once."

"They dated?" Tom asks.

"Not successfully," Troi points out. "And anyway, the rumor is that Captain Janeway has recently become off the market."

"It's a small quadrant," Tom says. "News travels fast."

"That's what has her worried," Troi says. "Going before the review board with a ring from a subordinate on her finger?"

"Feel free to cut right to the chase," Tom says.

"Sorry."

"No, it's okay," Tom says. "I think that's one of the things she's worried about, but I assume it's the tip of a dauntingly large iceberg."

"Captains are delicate creatures," Troi says. "They tend to shoulder inhuman loads."

"It took years for her to open up to me and even now, I only get bits and pieces," he says. "Anyway."

"You want the rest of the tour?" she asks.

"Sure."

oooo

Janeway wakes up slowly, feeling sluggish and groggy.

"Hey."

She can hear Tom but doesn't feel like opening her eyes just yet. She just wants to go back to sleep.

"Kathryn, wake up," Tom says again. "It's okay."

She's just so tired. She feels a cool hand on her forehead.

"Will Riker is here to see you."

She opens her eyes, and looks around quickly.

"Ha! I knew that'd get you," Tom says. Behind him, Dr. Crusher snickers. "Yeah, I learned all about that."

"It meant... nothing," she manages to whisper. She clears her throat.

"How do you feel, Captain?" Dr. Crusher inquires.

"I'm fine," she says, struggling to sit up. Tom helps her. She pushes her hair back from her head. "Am I going to make it?"

"You were never not going to make it," Tom says.

"The virus is gone," Dr. Crusher says. "When you're well enough, the Captain would like to see you."

"For what reason?" she asks.

"Well, he didn't say," Dr. Crusher says. "But I can only imagine he'd like to talk about the Borg."

"The Borg," Janeway says. "Jean-Luc Picard wants to talk to me about the Borg."

"When you're well enough," Tom says.

"I'm well enough now," she says.

"Wait a second," Tom says, blocking her escape with his body. "You need to rest."

"I need to get dressed," she says.

"You're not going anywhere quite yet, Ma'am," Dr. Crusher says in a voice that is all business. "If you'd like, I'll alert the Captain that you're awake and you can have your meeting here."

"Fine," she says. Dr. Crusher moves away and Tom leans in.

"Seven?" he asks.

"Captain Picard is one of the only other people who has been assimilated and lived to tell the tale," Janeway says. "I have no idea what is going to happen with Seven but he may be able to help."

"You forget yourself," Tom says. "Tuvok. B'Elanna."

"Not the same," she says. "Yes, I had all the machinery, but I was only under the influence of the collective for a few minutes."

"Still," Tom says. "Kathryn, I'm serious. You need to take it easy. You're going to have plenty of time to talk about the past in the next couple weeks. Please use this time to rest."

"I have my whole life to rest," she says. "I won't be able to rest until I know the fate of my crew."

He holds up his hands. This fight can quickly become long, ugly, and unsolvable.

When Captain Picard comes in, Tom is still by her bedside but he straightens up to attention at the sight of the legendary Captain.

"Kathryn," Picard says, smiling. "It's good to see you again."

"You too," Janeway says, sitting up. "Thank you for letting me use your facilities."

"Any time," he says.

"This is Lieutenant Tom Paris," she says. "My helmsman."

Picard looks at Tom, his brow furrowed. Captains don't generally take their Conn officers around on personal missions but either Picard can read between the lines or doesn't care because he doesn't ask any questions.

"I'm sure your father is happy to have you home, Lieutenant," he says instead.

"Yes, Sir," says Tom.

"Beverly says we can have a talk here," Picard says. "I'll keep it brief, for now, but I was hoping we could talk about your experiences with the Borg."

"Would you like me to..." Tom points at the door but Janeway touches his wrist lightly. It tells him he can stay.

"Captain," Picard says. "While your means of returning to the alpha quadrant is not yet widely known, it appears you have dealt a crippling blow to the Borg."

"Borg activity has gone down?" she asks.

"We cannot even locate any Borg activity at all. Even our ships that are out on the deepest space missions have not reported a single sighting. It appears, Captain, that you've cut off their means of getting into the alpha quadrant at all."

"For now," Janeway says.

"Yes," Picard agrees.

"Captain," Janeway says. "There is another matter I'd like to talk to you about. One more delicate, one I think you will understand uniquely."

"Oh?" he asks.

"There is a member of my crew who has a somewhat uncertain fate at the moment. While Starfleet must know about her, they haven't yet asked me anything or demanded that I produce her," Janeway says.

"I don't understand," Picard says, simply.

"Her name," Tom jumps in, "Is Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero-One."

"A drone?" Picard breathes.

"A human," Janeway corrects. "A human girl."

"I'd very much like to meet this girl," Picard says. "Where is she now?"

"Arizona," Janeway says. "For now."

"On Earth," Picard says, rubbing his chin. "Well, that would delay us even further and take us exceptionally off course."

"You want to go to Earth just to meet Seven?" Tom asks. "But how will you convince Starfleet?"

"You know, at this point they pretty much just let me do whatever I want," Picard says. He laughs like he's kidding, but everyone knows he isn't. "I'll head us in the right direction. Captain Janeway, when you're well, you'll come find me?"

"Of course," Janeway says. When he's gone, Tom turns to her.

"How long until you get to do whatever you want?" he asks.

"A long, long time," she says, letting her head fall back against the biobed. "A long time."


	15. Chapter 15

Leaving the Enterprise is not unusual for Captain Picard, but generally he doesn't take shore leave to do so. The Enterprise has been reassigned to a more local, short term mission to give Picard the few days he might need to make Seven's acquaintance. They dress in civilian clothing before beaming down. Tom thinks Janeway is being a little paranoid but knows better than to question her where Seven is concerned. Tom had thought returning to Earth meant going back to "normal," whatever that is, but now he's just on another adventure that seems unpredictable and unreal.

"Where is this house, exactly?" Picard asks, as they step off the transport shuttle. They seem to be in the middle of nowhere. Janeway glances at the PADD in her hand.

"I'm not sure, exactly," Janeway says. "Chakotay prefers solitude."

"The Maquis Captain that you were supposed to capture?" Picard asks.

Tom inhales sharply. Famous Captain or not, Picard would do well to stay off Janeway's bad side and the best way to get there is by attacking Chakotay.

"On Voyager, we are not _Starfleet_ and _Maquis_," she says icily. "This way, gentlemen."

They set off down a dusty path in silence. It's warm, but not yet hot and Tom hangs back a few meters to enjoy the walk. Soon enough, Picard falls in step with him.

"Your Captain," Picard says. "Stern woman."

"Loyal," Paris corrects. "Chakotay is her best friend. The Maquis are a thing of the past - at least in the Delta Quadrant."

"I see," Picard says. "Well, if Chakotay is her best friend, that makes you what? Her traveling companion?"

"Very sly, Captain," Tom says. "You heard the lady. I'm her helmsman."

"You're not at all like your father," Picard says.

"You mean I'm not a self-important blowhard?" Tom asks.

"Something like that," Picard says.

"As I hear it, you could've outranked him twice over by now, if you'd wanted."

"I'm not quite ready to become a blowhard just yet," Picard says.

For a moment, Tom can't see Kathryn as she rounds a bend but after a few seconds, they catch up and see a long ranch house come into view. In front, tall sunflowers are blooming under a bright blue sky.

"Nice," Picard murmurs. "I can't remember the last time I had a residence that didn't fly."

"There's something appealing about a house, a plot of land," Tom says. "Then I just get that itch to fly again. But, maybe it's time."

"Indeed," Picard says. The door to the house opens and Neelix steps out.

"Captain Janeway!" he calls, his voice carrying easily through the thin air. "Welcome to Arizona!"

"Mr. Neelix," she greets. "How are you enjoying the sun?"

"Talaxian," Paris supplies to Picard. "And also the most exuberant man you will ever meet."

Inside the house is cool and dark. The house looks comfortable but not well lived in.

"You're just in time for lunch," Neelix says.

"Neelix, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard," Janeway says. "He's here to meet Seven. Where is she?"

"Well, ah, she and Commander Chakotay went on a walk," Neelix says. "He had his medicine bundle."

"When are they supposed to be back?" Janeway presses.

"Last night," Neelix says. "But I'm sure they'll be home soon."

Tom snickers behind his hand and Janeway presses her mouth together in frustration. Neelix is seemingly oblivious and reaches out his hand to Picard.

"Pleased to meet you, Captain," Neelix says. "I have stew!"

oooo

"Captain," Seven says, looking up from the recliner in the living room. She has a mug of something in her hands and looks decidedly unlike herself with her hair down. "It's late. I didn't think you were awake."

"I couldn't sleep," she says. "Too quiet here. When did you get back?"

"A few hours ago," Seven says.

"Did you have a good vision quest?"

"It was... enjoyable," Seven says. "I have received a summons from Starfleet Command." Seven holds out a PADD. Janeway takes it and scans it quickly.

"Same day as me," she says. "What about Chakotay?"

"Not yet," Seven says. "Chakotay has contacted a few other crew members, but it seems that you and I are the only ones so far."

"I don't like the sound of that," Janeway sighs.

"If Mr. Neelix does not answer to Starfleet, then why must I?" Seven asks.

"Well," Janeway says, sitting across from her on the brown sofa. "Your parents were Federation scientists and one of the first experts on the Borg. You are a human."

"I don't remember Earth," she says, looking out the window. "Or my parents."

"The truth is, it's my fault," Janeway says. "You're having to face up to a choice I made for you."

"A choice that gave me my individuality back," Seven reminds her. "The correct choice."

"Not what you said at the time," Janeway remembers.

"No," Seven says.

"I brought someone to help us," Janeway says. "Someone influential and knowledgeable. I believe Starfleet just wants to meet you, to reassure themselves that I wasn't flying around with a Borg drone and that their secrets are safe. But, if Starfleet has more.... ulterior motives, Captain Picard will know what to do."

"Captain Picard?" Seven asks, sitting up.

"Yes, from the Enterprise," Janeway says.

"Locutus," Seven says.

"I think he'll understand you," Janeway says.

"You understand me," Seven says. Janeway, with any other crew member, would reach out and take their hand, but with Seven she resists the urge.

"We should get some sleep," Janeway says.

"Is Lieutenant Paris here?" she asks.

"Tom can sleep through anything," Janeway says. Seven looks at her ring.

"You are going to marry him?" she asks.

"Some day," Janeway says. "But not today or tomorrow. What about you? Have you thought of marriage?"

"I am not yet convinced," Seven says simply. Convinced that marriage is necessary, convinced that she has found the one, Janeway isn't sure but she doesn't ask.

"Chakotay is... a good man. A very, very good man," Janeway says. "You should marry him, I think. Someone should."

"Goodnight, Captain," Seven says.

In the borrowed bedroom, Tom is snoring softly, sprawled out across the mattress. Janeway is tired, she feels not 100 percent, but instead of getting back into bed, she curls up in the chair by the window and waits out the sunrise.

oooo

Janeway wakes up in bed. Tom must have put her there; it seems late in the morning. She takes a sonic shower and puts her clothes back on. The house seems oddly quiet and when she enters the kitchen, Chakotay and Tom are both sitting at the table with cups of coffee and what looks like the end of breakfast.

"Hey," Tom says, looking up. Chakotay gets up and hugs her hello, like they have been apart for months instead of weeks.

"Welcome," he says.

"Where is everyone?" she asks.

"Neelix walked into town," Tom says. "Seven and Captain Picard are in the shed."

"The shed?" she asks. "What the hell are they doing, gardening?"

"No," Chakotay chuckles. "All my communication equipment is out there instead of in the house."

"How long have they been talking?" she demands.

"Couple hours," Tom says. "You want some coffee?"

"Why didn't you wake me up?" she asks.

"You were tired," Tom says. "Have a cup of coffee." He pours her one and she takes it.

"I'm going out there," she says.

"Kathryn," Chakotay says gently, in that voice he uses when he thinks she's going totally crazy. "Eat some breakfast first."

"But..."

"They're perfectly all right," Tom says. "When they're ready, they'll come get you."

Janeway sits down at the table and crosses her arms.

"I was a Borg too," she says under her breath, feeling left out and petulant.

"Nice ring," Chakotay says.

"Stop trying to change the subject," she snaps at him, and recrosses her arms so the ring finger is hidden. Only here, in front of these two men, would Janeway show such an insecure side of herself.

"Yes Ma'am," Chakotay says, smiling into his coffee cup.

Tom sets down a plate of food in front of Janeway and she sulks slightly as she takes a few bites. But her heart is not in it and after a few minutes she puts her fork down and marches out the back door, ignoring the protests of Chakotay and Tom. The shed is not far from the house, down a stone path. She doesn't bother to knock on the door, just pushes it open, letting the bright sun flood the dim room. Seven and Picard both look up at her, squinting and startled.

"Captain Janeway," Seven says, evenly. "You're awake."

"Yes." She feels foolish now. They are not inputting data into any monitor, speaking to anyone without her knowledge. They are just sitting there, probably talking about the things they have in common. "I just wanted to make sure things were going well."

"Well," Picard says. "Won't you join us?" He stands up and perches on the edge of the tool bench. Janeway takes a seat in his vacated chair.

oooo

"So you're going to marry Kathryn Janeway?" Chakotay says to Tom, who is loading dirty dishes into the replicator to be recycled.

"You know," Tom says as if he hadn't heard Chakotay. "I kind of thought there'd be more fanfare."

"Sorry?" Chakotay asks.

"When we got home. I thought there'd be anti-matter fireworks, speeches, commendations," he says. "Instead, we've been ushered back in almost silence."

"The media has been talking about Voyager excessively," Chakotay says. "Several of our crew members, including your best friend Harry Kim, have given statements."

"Harry Kim is the highest ranked officer to have done so, don't you think that's strange?" Tom asks. "No one has asked me for a statement, or Kathryn. How about you? Any requests?"

"No," Chakotay says.

"Someone is intercepting them," Tom says. "And any official statement from Voyager, besides character pieces from ensigns or lower, comes from Admiral Paris."

Chakotay doesn't really have anything to say. It _is_ strange.

"Something isn't right," Tom says. "Kathryn is freaked out - I've seen her frightened before but she's jumpy and irrational. We have no idea what's coming."

"She hates to sit around," Chakotay agrees. Tom gets this look on his face like a putting a brand new power cell into a flashlight.

"So why are we?" he asks.

"Why are we what?"

"Sitting around waiting for Starfleet to come get us," Tom says. "We've spent seven years blazing a trail through the delta quadrant and it got us home. Now we're supposed to stop doing the one thing that worked?"

"You think we should just go to Starfleet Command?" Chakotay asks.

"I think Kathryn and Seven should go. I think you and I should go. I think everyone who lived aboard that ship, Starfleet or not, should go right now," Tom says. "If they have questions, we'll answer them as a crew, not one by one in a dark room with one hanging light bulb like we did something wrong."

"Tom..."

"Starfleet is not the same thing it was when we left," Tom says. "Look around, Chakotay. This shouldn't even be happening. We should be heroes; instead the longer we stay camped out, licking our wounds, the more we look like the kid who got lost and then punched his way home. It isn't right."

"You want to pick a fight," Chakotay says. "You know, Paris, if you weren't such a sniveling traitor, you really could've made a good Maquis officer."

"Shut up," Tom says. "You're just mad I'm marrying your girlfriend."

"I'm still your commanding officer," Chakotay warns him, looking like he's about to punch Tom in the face.

"Are you?" Tom asks. "I think we should go find out. Come on, Chakotay. Help me go convince her to pick a fight."

"Pick a fight with whom?" Janeway asks, standing in the open back door.

"Pack your bag," Tom says, pointing at her. "We're going to San Francisco."

oooo

It takes time, almost 72 hours, for the Voyager crew to rally. Luckily, almost everyone is still on Earth or nearby. Janeway didn't send very many directions - she doesn't have to. Her crew is loyal and well trained. If she sends a time, a place, and the instructions to wear uniforms - her crew will obey. And they do.

When Janeway stands in front of everyone, she realizes that most people - in fact almost everyone - is wearing their Voyager uniforms. They are a sea of black and blue, gold, and red shoulders. It is a sign of loyalty and solidarity. At some point, Janeway isn't sure exactly when, Voyager became home and Earth a destination. Maybe the rest of the crew is feeling the same way as she is - untethered and unsure. They're home, but there's a part of her inside that just wants to get back to her ship.

They are outside the Federation judicial office where the personnel reviews will take place. When Janeway comes in, the Lieutenant at the front desk rises and salutes her.

"Captain Janeway," he says. "Your review date is not for another week." His eyes dart to the growing group of 150 people behind her. "And the rest of your crew has not received their summons."

"Are they in session?" she demands, ignoring his protests.

"They are in closed session," the Lieutenant says. "Please, Captain, you'll have to wait until your review hearing."

"Get them," she says.

"They are not to be disturbed," the Lieutenant says.

"Get them," Janeway says. "That's an order, Lieutenant. We're done waiting."

The Lieutenant hesitates for a moment, deciding whether or not to follow her orders, but ultimately he relents and disappears down the hall only to return a moment later with Admiral Paris.

"You're early," Admiral Paris says.

"If you have questions," Janeway says. "Now is the time to ask them, Sir."

"I'm afraid I don't work on your timetable, Captain," Admiral Paris says.

"Did you know," Tom says conversationally, "That the San Francisco Chronicle has offices three blocks from here? I bet they're very interested in what we have to say and their news feed goes out to anyone and everyone in the quadrant."

"Either way, today someone is going to know what happened out there," Chakotay says.

"You're willing to go against direct orders, Kathryn?" Admiral Paris asks. "To force your entire crew to mar their files with your impatience?"

"No one is here against their will," Janeway says. "And they know they are free to leave whenever they choose. But they are also tired of waiting - of not knowing why their lives have been put on hold. You can have me, my entire senior staff, Seven of Nine. But my crew - clear their names. They're innocent and deserve to get on with their lives."

"This is very unorthodox," Admiral Paris says. "The delta quadrant has changed you Kathryn, and blackmail is beneath you."

"Doing what's best for my crew is not beneath me," Janeway says. The crowd shuffles slightly and Captain Picard emerges to stand next to Janeway. Admiral Paris's eyebrows raise in surprise.

"I don't think her request is unreasonable, Admiral," Picard says. "Grant her crew clemency. What she knows about the Borg is worth Voyager's weight in latinum alone."

"Come with me," Admiral Paris says, looking directly at Janeway. He glances at his son. "You too."

When they start to follow him, Picard comes along, walking like he's headed toward a park for a stroll. Admiral Paris makes a noise low in his throat like frustration but doesn't order Picard away. Janeway suspects she's being led in to face the board, but instead, he passes the conference room and ushers them into a smaller office. Picard perches against the desk and Admiral Paris faces them, his arms crossed.

"This has your finger prints all over it," he says to Tom.

"Admiral," Janeway says. She just wants his attention, to let him know that he should address her.

"I fought for you, Kathryn," Admiral Paris says. "I supported you. I kept the Pathfinder project open when many wanted it shut down."

"We're grateful for that," Janeway says. "Lieutenant Barclay deserves a promotion."

"Where is Reg these days?" Picard asks.

"He's been transferred for a duty rotation on Jupiter Station," Admiral Paris says.

"Weird," Tom says. "For a diagnostic engineer to go into starship maintenance."

"I believe he's working with Dr. Zimmerman. Something you know about already," Admiral Paris says. "This is not his first duty tour aboard the station."

"I find it odd," Picard says, "That Reg wouldn't want to be here for Voyager's return. He worked so hard on that project and if I'm not mistaken, consider your crew, Kathryn, as friends?"

"We consider him a great friend," Janeway agrees.

"So why wouldn't he be here?" Picard presses.

"What are you hiding?" Tom asks, the first to come out and just say it. "What are you planning that no one is talking and everyone is going around acting like that isn't weird? What scared off Lieutenant Barclay?"

"The Borg," Janeway says finally.

"Reg is terrified of the Borg," Picard says, snapping his fingers.

"Lieutenant Barclay is an expert on the Borg," Admiral Paris says.

"In theory," Picard says. "But he would never want to face them, head on, purposefully."

"That's it," Janeway says, her eyes getting wide. "You want to go after the Borg. You want to use the transwarp technology to learn how to fight the Borg."

"To destroy the Borg," Admiral Paris says. "It's one of the most important missions in the history of Starfleet."

"And you want her to lead it," Picard says, looking at Janeway. He doesn't look pleased; his expression borders on horrified.

"Send your crew home," Admiral Paris says. "Tell your Senior Bridge officers to stay. And, of course, your drone. I'll grant your clemency - you and I have a lot to talk about."

With that, Admiral Paris turns on his heel and walks out.

"What they're talking about," Janeway says softly, "Is Starfleet sanctioned genocide."

Tom finds this terribly ironic, of course. It wasn't long ago he was saying the same thing to her - arguing against destroying the Borg to get their ship home but he doesn't point this out now.

oooo

Janeway sits, flanked by her highest officers. Chakotay to her right and Tuvok to her left. In the row behind them, Tom sits with Harry and B'Elanna and Seven. Seven looks uncharacteristically unsettled. To the untrained eye, she sits with a rigid spine and stoic expression, but Tom can see her eyes darting and her jaw working. Chakotay periodically turns to look at her and nod once, as if to say, "you're doing fine."

They have been kept waiting for some time now. Well over thirty minutes and while Tom feels like stretching his legs or making small talk, he follows his Captain's lead. Earlier that day, she'd spoken to him about what was to come.

"They're going to separate me from the rest of you," she'd warned. "There's nothing we can do about that."

Now, finally, the door to the inner chamber opens and someone comes out. Tom doesn't recognize him, but he holds the rank of a Captain so they all stand.

"Captain Kathryn Janeway," he says. "You'll come with me."

As soon as she is gone, B'Elanna and Harry break out into hissed whispers of conspiracy theories. Tuvok does not engage in any talk and Tom leans forward to Chakotay.

"What's going to happen if she says no?" Tom asks. "What if they order her to do something she doesn't want to do?"

"I don't know, Paris," Chakotay says.

"What if they order all of us to go back and finish what we started?" Tom asks. "What if…?"

"Lieutenant Paris," Tuvok says. "Your speculation will not make this process go any faster."

"We've been doing this for three days," B'Elanna says, a thin edge of impatience and anger in her voice. "They know everything we know. Why are we still here?"

"They want to break her," Tom says. "They want her to follow orders and they're using us to get her to comply."

"She will not," Seven says.

"Is it really so bad?" Harry says. " Cutting off the Borg's access to the Alpha Quadrant?"

Everyone looks over at Harry, surprised. Seven looks angry; her eyes flash.

"We already have," Tom says. "Harry, they want her to destroy the Borg completely."

"Genocide," Seven says.

"And to do so means heading back to the Delta Quadrant," Tuvok offers, finally relenting and participating in the conversation.

"Exile," Tom says.

"Though one might argue she is the best suited for the job," Tuvok says.

"Come on, it's a punishment," Tom says.

"But why are they punishing her?" Harry asks. "What has she done wrong?"

B'Elanna scoffs. "The Equinox?"

"Torres," Chakotay snaps, dangerously.

"They're punishing her because of me," Tom says.

"No one cares who you're screwing," B'Elanna says. "Not even Starfleet."

"Not _that_," Tom says. "Future me."

"How is the future anyone's fault?" Harry says. "If anything, I think her biggest infraction is the Maquis – no offense."

"No offense?" Chakotay asks, clearly offended.

"I just mean, we were meant to capture you, not befriend you," Harry says.

"That is water under the bridge," Tom says, quickly. "The Maquis members have more than proven that. Besides, we couldn't have done it any other way."

"The conflict is about the Borg and I am Borg," Seven says. "They are punishing her for severing me from the collective."

"You _were_ Borg," Chakotay says. "And that's absurd."

"This whole discussion is absurd," Tuvok says. "I suggest we wait quietly until we have more information."

There is a few moments of silence but then Harry breaks again.

"If they order us to go back, will they send us in Voyager?" he asks.

"Voyager needs a least a year of major overhauling just to be brought up to spec," B'Elanna says, as if Harry is getting stupider by the minute. "I jury-rigged so many things on that ship it's going to take them six months just to undo it all."

"Every modification you made would be in the ship's log," Tuvok reminds her.

"Right," B'Elanna says, smirking smugly.

"She seemed to think this would be the last day," Tom says, resting his chin on his hand.

"So you do know!" Harry accuses.

"She hasn't told me anything," Tom says. "Trust me."

"I'm not going back to the Delta Quadrant," B'Elanna announces to no one in particular. "And if they ask me to, I'll shove my commission down their throats."

"Assuming you still have a commission," Seven points out.

They fall into an uneasy silence.

oooo

When Janeway emerges, she's hard to read. Her officers all stand up and look at her with hopeful expressions.

"Well?" B'Elanna demands impatiently.

Janeway extends her hand, curled into a fist. Slowly, she turns her hand over and opens her fingers to reveal something sitting in her palm. It is two rank bars denoting the rank of vice admiral.

"They promoted you?" Chakotay asks. She nods and her face breaks out into a grin.

"You mean we've been rotting in here for three days so you can get promoted?" B'Elanna asks. Harry elbows her in the ribs and she rolls her eyes. "I mean, congratulations."

"I understand," Janeway says. "Everyone on Voyager gets to keep their commission and are cleared to return to duty when finished with their leave."

Everyone is relieved at this and Tom reaches over to give Harry a high five. Even Tuvok looks pleased.

"In that case," Tuvok says. "May I return to Vulcan?"

"Of course, my friend," Janeway says. "Please send your wife and children my apologies for keeping you."

Tuvok wastes no time in leaving.

"What about the Delta Quadrant?" Chakotay asks.

"I think in time Starfleet will want to further explore that area of space, but I'm not going and neither are you," she says. "Unless you want to."

"And the Borg?" Seven asks. What she's really asking about is herself.

"While the issue of the Borg is still rather... unresolved, Starfleet has decided to offer you admission to the academy, if you'd like," Janeway says.

"Admission," she says.

"Seven has more experience than most Lieutenants I know," Chakotay says. Janeway raises her hand.

"I know," she says. "That took three days of negotiation. I figure, Seven, that you'll place out of most of the general classes anyway and can be done in a year or two and earn your own commission."

"And if I decline?" Seven asks.

"You could always work for Starfleet as a consultant," Janeway says.

"And if I decline Starfleet all together," she asks. Janeway shrugs.

"It's your life, kiddo," Janeway says. Seven almost smiles.

"I will consider my options," she says.

oooo

There isn't going to be any ceremony; not one with people and food and rice being thrown. Tom is game for anything she wants to do, but she wants to do it quietly.

"I just want to be married," she explains. "I feel like a fraud wearing this ring."

"Don't be ridiculous," Tom says.

"Gee, thanks for making me feel better," she says.

Today, they are looking at houses. As an admiral, she will be based on Earth. Tom hasn't put in for a new assignment yet - he plans to take each and every day of leave he is able. He also wants to see where Janeway is going to settle so he can get an assignment nearby but not directly under her chain of command. Janeway insists he gets a job where he gets to fly, but being assigned to a starship isn't that appealing. After flying Voyager for seven years, he needs a new challenge.

Harry has put in for a promotion and is waiting for it before he looks for a new assignment - he'll have more options as a Lieutenant. B'Elanna, Tom suspects, will request another ship assignment but he isn't sure because they don't really speak much. He just can't imagine she'd be happy on a planet for very long.

"Where is this lady taking us?" Tom asks, shrugging into his coat.

"I don't know," Janeway says. "She's a realtor, I imagine she has a few places picked out."

"But how does she know what we want?" he presses. "I don't even know what we want."

"I don't know," Janeway says, impatiently. "She knows I'm an admiral, she knows I'll be working in San Francisco, she knows we're getting married, she knows, I assume, about Voyager."

"What if they are all wrong?"

"Then we'll do it until we find a right one," she says.

"I'm not living south of Hayward," he says. "Or east of Lafayette."

"See, you do know what you want," she says.

"I don't want an apartment no matter how nice it is," he says.

"Why didn't you tell me all of this before I called her?" she asks, exasperatedly as they walk out the door.

"Because the last house I lived in was with my parents," Tom says. "What the hell do I know about it?"

"I don't think east of Lafayette is a bad area," she says. They are heading down the street. They're meeting the realtor a few blocks away.

"You grew up in Indiana. I grew up in Marin. The east bay is hot and boring."

"We'll just see what she's picked out, hmm?" she says. The wind is blowing her hair back. On Voyager, there had been routine and she'd gotten her hair trimmed once a month but now it's starting to creep down past her shoulders and she hasn't been styling it on days she doesn't wear her uniform. He likes it.

"Are you worried about living with me?" Tom asks.

"I've been living with you for a year," she says. "We're very compatible."

"But that was Voyager," he says. "What if you realize here that we aren't?"

"Aren't what?" she says distractedly. She has spotted the woman a few meters away.

"Compatible!" he says.

"Do you think that's likely?" she asks. "Do you plan on being particularly hard to live with? I mean, the dirty dishes everywhere, that one took a while to iron out, and the fact that you never bother to clean your clothes, you just wear them until they're so rank I do it for you, that's not my _favorite_ quality, but those offenses are hardly punishable by death so..."

"I'm being serious," he says.

"Tom," she says. "We're just looking at houses."

"And getting married next month," Tom says. "In theory because we have no location, no one to officiate, and no plan whatsoever..."

"Admiral Janeway!"

Tom's rant is cut off by the realtor, a overly enthusiastic Napean who waves them over.

"An empathic realtor hardly seems fair," he mutters but she nudges him so he'll be quiet.

"I'm Bethla," she says, holding her hand out to Tom who shakes it. "You must be Lieutenant Paris."

"Nice to meet you," he says.

"I have four houses for you to look at today," she says, holding up what appears to be a remote transporter device. "Are you ready?" Tom gets it - this way they don't have to find transporter stations in order to travel.

"We are," Janeway says. "You've got your work cut out for you!"

"I like a good challenge," she promises. "The first one is in San Jose."

Tom gives her a knowing look and she rolls her eyes before they disappear to the front of yard of the first house.

It's the third house that Tom loves. They rematerialize in the yard of a tall, narrow house. The yard is full of grass, flowers, and trees and the house looks older and is painted a cheery yellow. It has a front porch and a little wrought iron gate surrounding the property.

"Where are we?" he asks.

"Berkeley," she says. "There's a transportation hub two blocks away."

"Berkeley," he murmurs to himself, sounding pleased. This is a good sign - he's been sullen and quiet so far.

"The house was built in 2215 so it's a bit of an antique, but it was fully restored in 2369 and has a replicator as well as showers that feature the option of water or sonic. There is an internal computer system - I know my Starfleet clients who spend a lot of time on a ship like that feature," Bethla says, reading from her data PADD.

"Let's go inside," Janeway says.

"Three bedrooms and an office," Bethla continues, climbing the steps and keying open the door. Instead of hissing open, they can hear the door unlock and she turns a knob to open it. Tom can barely contain his glee.

"Admiral Toulaine lives right down the block," Bethla continues. "He has three children in the school system if that's what you're..."

Janeway holds up her hand.

"One step at a time," she says with a smirk. "Why don't you give us a few minutes to look around?"

"I'll be right outside," Bethla says. As soon as she's gone, Tom turns to her.

"I want it."

"We've seen one room," Janeway says.

"Hardwood floors? This neighborhood is awesome..."

"Awesome?" she laughs.

"Berkeley is central!"

"Let's look around first," she persuades.

"But do you like it?" he asks.

"Yeah," she says. "I like it."

He grins, and hurries up the stairs.


	16. Chapter 16

"I'm late," she says, rushing past him. She's shrugging into her jacket and running her fingers through her hair at the same time.

"You have a five minute walk," Tom says. He's still in his bathrobe, drinking coffee out of Janeway's favorite mug. "You won't be late."

She ignores him, save for a quick glower, and disappears into the bathroom. When she comes out, she's wearing dark red lipstick.

"I've got to go," she says.

"Kathryn, are you forgetting something?" Tom says. She stops and faces him, her eyes searching. He picks up her new rank bars from the the nightstand and tosses them to her. She catches them easily.

"I'm sorry," she says, pausing to fasten her rank to her collar. "It's just my first day and I'm a little nervous."

"It's going to be fine," Tom assures her. "They're going to love you."

"I don't want their love," she says. "I want their respect." Tom grins.

"You'll get both, I'd wager." He gets out of bed and stands in front of her - he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Soon, it will be long enough to put up. "See you tonight."

She leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth before rushing down the stairs and out the door. When Tom see's his reflection in the bathroom mirror later, there is the faint impression of her lips in red.

oooo

Harry arrives about an hour after Janeway leaves. His new tour on the USS Hood doesn't start for another two weeks.

"Lieutenant Kim," Tom says, when he opens the door.

"Mr. Janeway," Kim says in return.

"Ha ha ha, you're so funny," Tom says. "When are you going to forgive me for that? It's been forever."

"It's been four days," Harry says, stepping into the house. Tom shuts the door behind them.

"If you've seen one marriage ceremony, you've seen them all," Tom says. "Besides, you're here to help me, I thought."

"I'm here to escape my mother," Harry says.

"Seven years of pining for her and now look at you," Tom accuses.

"I love her, I love my family and I love eating their food and sleeping in my bed but... she insists on tucking me in, Tom! And in the morning, I wake up and she's sitting by my bed watching me sleep! It's creepy. She came into the bathroom the other day while I was in the tub and asked me to play her something on my clarinet!" Tom is laughing. "Sure, it sounds funny but mostly it's traumatizing. I'm 30 years old!"

"Yet you still take baths in the tub..."

"That's it, I'm leaving," Harry says.

"Wait, wait, I'm sorry," Tom says. "Stay."

"What is this project anyway?" Harry asks.

"A memory box," Tom says, handing him a PADD. Harry scrolls through the specs. "I still haven't gotten her a wedding present and I thought I could make something that would hold her Captains' pips, her Voyager Comm badge, a picture of the senior staff..."

"That's a really good idea," Harry says.

"Always the tone of surprise."

"What do you need me for?" Harry asks.

"Well, if I were programming it on a holodeck, I'd be fine, but in reality, building things is really more your forte," Tom says.

"You should replicate Voyager's Dedication plaque and include it," Harry says.

"See! Now we're thinking," Tom says, leading Harry out the back door.

oooo

"Admiral?"

Janeway looks up from the briefings to see her new assistant standing in her office doorway.

"What is it, Lily?" Janeway asks. She feels exhausted already - her first order of business is to catch up on the last seven years of Starfleet Command and she's beginning to realize it might take another seven years to do it.

"There's someone here to see you," Lily says. "She claims to be your mother."

Janeway smiles. "Let's give her the benefit of the doubt then. Send her in, please."

"I used to bring your father lunch," Gretchen says, holding up a brown paper bag. Janeway smiles and hugs her mother.

"Thank you," she says, taking the bag and setting it aside. Her mother takes her hand and thumbs what used to be her wedding ring and the gold band that Tom had given Janeway to wear above it. "You didn't have to come all this way."

"I wanted to hear how your first day is going. Do you have time to eat?"

Janeway glances at the chronometer on her monitor and internally winces. Nothing with her mother is ever quick - her mother is used to living in a small town where supper is an hour and a half followed by a spell on the front porch if the weather is obliging. Janeway has budgeted fifteen minutes for lunch.

"Sure," she relents. After all it is her first day - no one expects her to move mountains quiet yet. They stay in the office instead of moving to the mess or going outside. Janeway can't seem to walk ten meters without seeing an old acquaintance or someone wanting to introduce themselves to her. She even sees members of her crew. Lieutenant Ryan's father teaches at the Academy and Janeway has seen her already this morning.

"How is Tom?" Gretchen asks.

"Still in bed, probably," Janeway says. "He has the sleeping pattern of a teenager."

"That's what happens when you rob the cradle," Gretchen says. Janeway gapes at her mother, shocked into silence. "I'm kidding," her mother relents.

"He's not... I didn't..."

"I think he's a good match for you," Gretchen says. "Mark is wonderful, but you needed someone with energy to match your own and you weren't going to find that in an older man."

"Tom is fine," Janeway says. "I'll tell him you asked after him."

"You're welcome for dinner any time," Gretchen says. She pauses and Janeway realizes her mother is waiting for a return invitation.

"The house is still in boxes," Janeway says. "We don't even have a dining room table - our mattress is on the floor because we can't agree on a bed frame. When things are more put together, maybe a housewarming party?"

"I guess it doesn't matter how accomplished you are - newlyweds still live in squalor," her mother jokes.

When Gretchen leaves, it's with the understanding that Janeway and Tom will come around for dinner within the week.

"You were gone for seven years," Gretchen says. "Try to imagine how I must feel."

Guilt was always one of her mother's specialties.

oooo

When she gets home, Tom and Harry are sitting in the kitchen at the wooden table there, drinking beer from dark brown bottles with long necks. She can tell they've been there a while, because when Harry sees her, he stands up too quickly and wobbles a bit.

"Admiral," he greets, and then starts laughing, which sets Tom off. She shakes her head.

"You guys have fun today?" she asks, shrugging out of her uniform jacket and laying it across the back of a chair.

"Days not over," Tom says, handing her his half empty bottle. She pauses for only a moment before grabbing the bottle and taking a drink. She sits at the end of the table, between them.

"You excited about working with Captain DeSoto?" she asks Harry. "The Hood is a good assignment."

"Everyone says it's his last tour," Harry says. Janeway knows for a fact that it is, but won't say as much.

"It'll be a nice change of pace for you, working with an experienced Captain," she says, with a wink.

"No shop talk on my vacation!" Tom says.

"Your indefinite vacation," Harry accuses with a grin. "Get a job!"

"NEVER!" Tom shouts cheerfully. "I'm a kept man now!"

"Like hell," Janeway says. "Actually, something came across my desk this morning." She reaches around into the pocket of her jacket and pulls out a slim, transparent PADD. She slides it across the table to her husband.

"Come on, Kathryn, it was your first day and you're already nagging me about getting work?" he whines.

"I'm not nagging you!" she says. Harry sits with a stupid grin, watching their marital bickering happily. "Look at the damn PADD, you'll thank me later."

He activates with with a grumble and scans through it. The longer he reads, the more silent he becomes. Finally he looks up at her.

"I need to submit my name right now," he says, standing. She snags his wrist.

"I already did," she promises. "With an accompanying note from your commanding officer for the required promotion."

"You're my commanding officer - you can't promote me if we're married."

"Not her, genius," Harry says. "Chakotay."

"Chakotay?" Tom asks, surprised. It is a kind thing for someone who isn't quite a friend to do. Janeway nods.

Finally, Harry can't stand it and grabs the PADD to look at the job description.

"Introduction to Holoprogramming, Starfleet Academy," he reads out loud. "Neat."

"Plus the 200 and 300 level classes, as well as the opportunity for tenure track," Janeway says. "And, if you were wise, you'd offer to teach a shuttle design class as well."

"It's not my job yet," Tom says, taking his beer back from her. He polishes it off.

"Yet," she says, with a wink. She turns to Harry. "And you, dearest, are spending the night."

"No, Captain, I mean... Admiral, I can..."

"You're drunk," she says. "You'll stay."

"Just say, yes Ma'am," Tom says. "I'll get you a pillow, buddy."

"Yes Ma'am," Harry says. Harry follows Tom down the hall. There is a guest room but it stands empty, so Harry will sleep on the couch. At some point, they're really going to have to agree on some furniture.

By the time Tom comes into their bedroom, Janeway is already in bed. She isn't asleep, but she's curled around the spot where Tom will sleep. It had taken her some time to get used to sharing a bed again. Tom is adaptable, always has been. He can sleep through alien fire, ion storms, or any sort of spacial distortion. Another person is no sweat. But Janeway had adapted slowly - first being unable to sleep with the sound of someone else breathing or worse - snoring. Then, Tom would wake up to an elbow in his ribs and a sleepily murmured apology; she'd forgotten he was there and she'd rolled over hard.

Now, though, she looks comfortable. He can see she's reading and that it's for work, not pleasure.

"I've already lost you," Tom says, seemingly sad.

"Hmm?" she asks.

"We had a rule on the ship," he says, pulling the PADD from her hand slowly. "No work in bed."

"Tom, do you know how much I have to catch up on?" she asks, reaching for the PADD.

"So, our rules don't apply here?"

"It's a different job," she says.

"Then we need different rules," he says. "Fair enough. But this rule stays. No work in our bed."

"You mean in our mattress on the floor?"

He crosses his arms.

"I was saving this for you," Tom says. "But you seem like you need it now."

"Saving what?"

"A present," he says.

"You have a present for me?" Janeway asks.

"I may," he says. "But you have to meet me half way."

"You'd rather I get out of bed and go sit downstairs alone to read then be in here with you in bed?" she asks.

"When we're in bed, I want to know that you're there with me one hundred percent," he says.

"You didn't even have that on Voyager," she says with a chuckle, like it is all a joke of some sort.

"This isn't Voyager," he says, seriously. She sets her work down.

"I know," she assures him. "You have me Tom, I swear you do, but this is my first week and you're going to have to cut me a little slack."

He rubs his face, the stubble that has gathered there during the day.

"Do you want your present?"

She grins.

"Yes, please."

"It's in the shed," he says and she throws back the covers and steps right into her house shoes. She follows him down the narrow staircase, they creep past Harry who is asleep, and out into the dark yard. Tom has bare feet and the grass is dewy and cool between his toes. She takes his hand as the find the path to the small wooden shed, as if there is danger lurking in the shadows. He opens the door and presses the button to activate the light.

"It's..." Her voice falters.

"You said you wanted something to put on that wall," he says. She puts her hand over her mouth and walks up to inspect it. There are her pips, her comm badge, her staff. They stand in silence for a long while. "You don't like it?"

"No," she says. "No, I like it very much. I just... I didn't know you had this in you, Tom."

"Had it in me?" he asks.

"To make something so... sentimental for me." She touches the frame. It's not stained yet and her fingers come away with sawdust.

"Well," he says. "I do like to keep you on your toes."

"Thank you," she says. "Can we hang it right now?"

"Tonight? We'll wake up Harry." But Tom is happy to oblige her and she stands in her robe, yawning, while he fastens it to the wall above the mantle. Harry stirs but doesn't wake up and they giggle as they climb the stairs whispering. Kathryn leaves her work alone and Tom turns off the light.

oooo

He gets the job. Whether or not it is on his own merit or because he had his father, Chakotay and his wife, the Admiral, pulling for him doesn't much matter in the end. The job is his and when the new term begins, he's teaching five classes. Kathryn is so proud, she wants to take his picture of the first day of class.

"I'm not your son," he says, taking the holocamera away from her. "Stop being weird."

"I know, I know," Janeway says. "But pictures on the first day of school are a family tradition."

"For a student," he says. He leans in and kisses her. She kisses him back and then wipes the lipstick from his mouth.

They walk to the transport station together. It's a short walk, but they're actually on time, so they don't hurry.

"I've been thinking about what I want for my birthday," he said. She'd asked him the other day and he hadn't had an answer. He is a man who has everything he wants. Well, almost everything.

"What is it?" she asks. They're holding hands and he gives hers a squeeze.

"Vice-Admiral Kathryn Elizabeth Paris," he says. "Has a nice ring, doesn't it?"

Janeway stops, lets go of his hand, and stares at him.

"Or... not," he says.

"You want me to change my name?" she asks.

"I just thought... we're married now, so... I know it's kind of an old tradition but..." He shakes his head. "Never mind, obviously you don't want to."

"I've never ever considered it," she says. "I've been a Janeway for so long."

"Don't sweat it, babe," he says. "I'll think of something else."

"Paris isn't a bad name," she says quickly.

"It's a damn fine name," he says. They are approaching the station. They both transport to San Francisco, but she goes to headquarters and he to campus.

"I'll see you later," she says. "Knock 'em dead."

"Bye," he says and kisses her lightly. She transports away first.

oooo

"I'll do it," she says.

She's decorating a cake - very, very badly, but looks like she's concentrating so hard that he can't criticize the wobbly border or lopsided letters.

"Do what?" he asks. They're having a very modest party for his birthday and it starts in a few hours. She wanted to surprise him but blew that pretty quick, so they are decorating together. Not more than ten people, his close friends. B'Elanna is even coming and bringing her new boyfriend. Tom knows nothing about him, Harry says he's an engineer and nice enough, if a little on the cocky side.

"Kind of like you," Harry had said.

"I'll take your name," Kathryn says now. "Happy birthday."

"Babe, you obviously don't want to," he says. "Don't do it."

"I do want to!" she says, setting down the piping tube. She pushes her hair out of her face and leaves a streak of orange icing on her forehead. "I wouldn't do it if I didn't."

"Kathryn..."

"Do I do things I don't want to do? Ever?" she asks.

"No," he concedes.

"Then shut up and take your gift," she says. "And anyway, I already put in the name request. By Monday, the plaque outside my office will have been changed and my records will reflect that I am Admiral Paris. Well, the other one." She grins.

"That's... awesome," he says. "You're really my wife. We're a family."

"You know it," she says. "What do you think of my cake?"

He looks at it, at her, and back at the cake.

"What do you think of my cake?" she asks again, more pointedly.

"I love it!" he says. She smiles and wipes her hands on the apron she wears.

"That's why I married you. Such a convincing liar."

"Why did you marry me?" he asks. She looks up at him, worried at the serious turn.

"I love you," she says. Kathryn is not, by any means, a simple woman but to her, this is a simple answer.

"How could you be certain that was enough?" he asks.

Her hands move to her hips. He swallows.

"Is it not enough for you?" she demands.

"You're a scientist," Tom says.

"I'm a person too," she says. "Love is irrational to a scientist, but to a human, it's natural. Even I know that."

"I just worry you got the short end of the stick is all," he says, twirling his ring around his finger.

"And I'm certain you got the short end," she says. "So it works out fine."

The doorbell sounds and then the door opens and Harry came in. He had, as Tom's best friend, an all access pass to the house. Kathryn doesn't even mind, she loves Harry like a son. Harry has the weekend off and has come to Earth for the party - they'd planned it for when he had leave. Kathryn kisses his cheek, ruffles his new buzz cut. Captain DeSoto has serious ideas about what is regulation.

"Heard the news, Admiral Paris," he says with a wink.

"That was quick." Tom looks appalled that Harry knew before him.

"The whole universe is like being on a small ship," Kathryn says as if this should soothe him somehow. He shrugs off her words and goes into the other room, presumably to sulk.

"I thought he would freak out on thirty, but he was fine. So what's the deal with this birthday?" Harry asks.

"I don't know, I think it's the promotion and the new job and being married," Kathryn says.

"Those are all good things," Harry says, confused.

"Yeah," she says. "Good, giant changes."

"So I'm guessing you haven't told him that you're pregnant yet," Harry says. She shushes him furiously - Tom is just in the other room.

"If he finds out I told you before him, he'll never forgive me," she hisses. She hadn't meant to tell him, but she had just found out and he'd called for Tom and she'd just blurted it in her excitement.

"Sorry," he says.

"Go away from me, go cheer him up," she orders. She's only a little pregnant - only a couple weeks. She's been on a strict regimen of vitamins and getting hormone injections weekly. She wasn't trying to get pregnant, she was just trying to make sure she could, if they wanted.

Best laid plans and everything. She sets a glass cover over the cake.

She's going to tell him tonight, after the party, when they are alone. She will wish him a happy birthday and tell him, let the truth be his gift. He will be happy, she thinks. She's happy, though cautiously so. She knows a hundred years ago a woman her age was considered well out of her child-bearing years, that luck is on her side.

She stands in the doorway and watches Tom and Harry drink beer and strike up a halfhearted game of cards. She feels happiness well up inside her.

"Come help me cheat, baby," Tom says. She walks over and sits on his knees.

"Those are awful cards," she says. He smacks her lightly. "I mean... watch out, Harry."

"I fold," Tom says. Janeway tries to stand but he holds her down.

"I have stuff to do," she says. "People are coming soon!"

"You have a minute to sit here with your boys," Tom says. She gives into his requests more often now, knowing how much he sacrificed when they were lost.

"Yeah," she says. "Deal me in, Harry."

"I will on the condition that you sit in your own chair," he says. "Ma'am."

"Ma'am?" she says. "Are we back to that?"

"Well, I wanted to be polite when I accused you of cheating," he grins. "Or attempting to cheat."

"Yeah, yeah," she says, sliding into her own seat. Tom offers her his bottle of beer but she waves it away, not quite meeting his eyes. Tom thinks nothing of it because his trust in her is pretty implicit these days. Harry grins at her, a happy smile, one she rarely saw on Voyager. "Harry," she says now, leaning in. "Honey, are you glad we got home?"

"What?" he asks. "Of course. Yeah!" She touches his face, his round face and pats it.

"What if we hadn't," she says.

"Kath..." Tom says warningly.

"I wasn't unhappy on your ship, Captain," he says, slipping up but maybe intentionally. "I missed Earth, but I wasn't unhappy."

"All this talk of happiness," Tom says. "Just live it! Come on, Harry, deal. We can get one more hand in before they get here."

"Sure," Harry says, shuffling. Tom squeezes Janeway's thigh under the table and she smiles at him, big with teeth.

"I love you," Tom says, spontaneously.

"I love you, too," Kathryn says.

"Okay, I'm officially no longer spending my leave with newlyweds," Harry says, tossing the cards down. "I'll be in the yard when the party starts."

They watch him leave and she climbs back on to his lap, pulling his face to hers.

When Neelix arrives, he has to buzz the door three times before someone lets him in and when Tom comes to the door, Neelix can see the lipstick on his face. The Talaxain grins and Tom grins back.

"Come on in," Tom says. "Let's get this party started."


End file.
